


Pictures on the Wall

by malekin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:16:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malekin/pseuds/malekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel left to get away from family and all it entailed, but after thoroughly embarrassing himself in front of his new neighbor he finds himself getting drawn into the small family across the hall. Can he let go of his past and find a new home, and, maybe most importantly, should he?</p>
<p>All human, but not all monsters are supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel stood next to the truck eyeing his new building warily.

When he’d first seen it and realized it was a four story walk-up, he’d almost immediately passed it up. In fact would have most assuredly passed it up if the realtor hadn’t caught him before his escape. Not one for being unnecessarily rude, he’d followed her up the many steps to view the place. The fourth floor had two apartments like the others; but, as these were two-instead of one-bedrooms, the apartments were shaped in an L configuration which meant a smaller landing and hallway. The doors were opposite each other and when Cas walked in he saw the only shared wall was the master bedroom. That particular tick in the no column was quickly erased as he took in the rest of the floor plan.

The living room, dining area, and kitchen were all one large open space. A breakfast bar between the dining room and kitchen; and the small step to the sunk in area of the middle of the living room, were the only delineations. The far wall had five floor to ceiling windows evenly spaced across its length, each (the realtor was quick to tell him) could be bumped out slightly revealing a small screened opening for air flow. Cas appreciated the added benefit, but what really caught his eye was the beautiful view that did not include a dirty alley, and the fact that he was high enough above it all to have privacy whether he covered the windows or not. It was also helpful that he could see the University in the distance, as the idea of leaving behind long commutes in exchange for leisurely walks had started digging its hooks into his brain.

A shared bedroom wall could be forgiven easily enough, he hadn’t actually dated anyone since the disaster that had been Naomi, and if his neighbors were, well, more adventurous; there was always the option of headphones.

He later told himself that he may still have managed to make it out of there without signing anything if it hadn’t been for the bathroom. Cas appreciated showers, it was where he did his best thinking after all, and the glass stall with the rain shower that was big enough for three people sealed the deal for him. By the time the realtor finished showing him the smaller bedroom he was already mentally placing his desk (by the side window for the best light), and walking out to the counter to sign the papers; grabbing the keys from the smiling woman before the ink had time to dry on the check he’d handed over.

Which led him to his current predicament, standing there with the realization that he was going to lug all his furniture and boxes up those four stories by himself. He shifted his overnight bag and the awkward box in his arms before he resigned himself to his fate and started climbing. He dropped the box outside his door fumbling for the lock and let out a sigh of relief that it held only books instead of breakables. Taking a moment to reacquaint himself with his new home, and plug in his phone in the kitchen, gave his mood a much needed lift; so, he decided to attempt some furniture next and made his way back downstairs.

The sky looked as though it threatened rain and Cas was mentally cursing the clouds, eyes glaring at their grey underbelly. As such, he didn’t notice the man standing at his truck until he quite literally ran him over. The stranger had good reflexes and managed to grab hold of the back of the truck before they both face planted into the cement. This left Cas, however, in the rather indelicate position of being draped over the poor man’s back. He straightened himself quickly, absolutely mortified and furiously wishing he had the ability to teleport himself out of there.

“I am so sorry!” Cas stammered.

“S’alright,” came a drawled reply, “This yours?” the man’s smile was crooked as he patted the truck.

“Yes, uh, that’s mine. New tenant, 4A.”

“Thought so, hadn’t seen you before,” he stuck out his hand, “I’m your new neighbor, Dean Winchester, 4B.”

“Castiel Novak.” Cas took the proffered hand, unable to squash the embarrassment over having assaulted his immediate neighbor.

“Angel of Thursdays?” Dean’s eyebrow raised slightly. “I suppose I’ll have to forgive you for having your head in the clouds then.”

“I have a, uh, a very religious grandmother,” Cas’ face burned, “and I am so very sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going. I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Honestly, no harm done.” He looked around Cas before adding, “You got anybody helping you?”

“Ah, no, as it happens. Just me.”

Dean laughed.

“Just now realizing this wasn’t a very well thought out plan?”

“No, not my brightest idea I can freely admit. I’m not sure what I was thinking, but I don’t really know anyone here, so, uh, kind of on my own.”

“Well, hey, you know me now.” Dean’s smile broadened, “And today just happens to be my day off, so throw in a beer and I’m your man.”

Cas still hadn’t quite gotten over his anxiety for running the poor man over, but the idea of not having to haul furniture by himself with just a dolly as help was too good to turn down.

“Sold.”

Dean followed him to the giant pile carefully arranged in the truck.

“Maybe, make that two.”

Cas laughed.

“I’ve got a growler with your name on it, promise.”

“Hell yeah, I’m your pack horse then.”

~.~

 

As it turned out, his new friend was an expert pack horse. Other than a slight snag with the couch, which was quickly solved as Dean had a gift with angles, it had been easy enough work. They’d hauled the last box and Cas locked down the truck, running back to the shelter of the building and through the self-locking door Dean was holding open just as the swollen clouds burst and a torrential downpour started.

“Wow.” Dean whistled, watching the rain, “We timed that one just right.”

“Agreed.”

Cas started what he swore would be his last trek up those stairs for the weekend, he figured after today he’d be fine skipping his normal run until Monday when he had to return the truck and look in at the University. They stopped outside his door surveying the sea of boxes littering the apartment. Besides, he had more than enough to keep him busy up here.

“My place?” Dean asked, head jerking towards his own door, “You bring the beer, I’ll supply the couch and passable conversation.”

Nodding, Cas quickly found the carefully swaddled and packaged growlers before turning to follow Dean into his now open door. He was actually curious about Dean’s home. He hadn’t been able to glean much from the man, despite his friendly demeanor. What he did know was he was in the building trade, which explained the ease with which he’d hefted those boxes, and he had a younger brother named Sam in the nearby college.

“Now, you’ve got how many brothers again?” Dean asked, walking into the kitchen to grab glasses and leaving Castiel to look around.

Dean’s layout was the same as his, albeit switched. A dark couch and chair combination that looked comfortable and well-used were matched with a simple, empty, black coffee table in the living room. He set the growlers on the counter and made his way further in. Everything was muted with subdued earthy tones of red, brown, and green to offset the black furniture. The focus of the room seemed drawn, not to the mounted television and gaming paraphernalia, but to an older styled turntable console. Records were overflowing from the cubbies on either side and littered across the top. A beautifully kept acoustic guitar sat in its stand.

“I’ve got three, and one sister.” He called out, stopping before the first of many bookcases that lined the far wall, situated in between the windows. His fingers trailed over worn in spines that spoke of frequent use. Dean had eclectic taste, all different genres of fiction, biographies, even history texts. Old and modern nestled together with no real rhyme or reason.  “My two oldest brothers don’t have much to do with each other though. We’re kind of all over the country right now anyway.”

He brought his eyes above the bookcases to the framed photographs that formed the main wall decorations throughout the room. Cas noticed repeated faces and a similar style that pointed to the same photographer, although the one directly in front of him seemed different.

“These are really good.” he turned to Dean who’d come in with two pounder glasses and a handful of takeout menus he set on to the coffee table. “Are these yours?”

“That one, no.” he pointed to the people in the photo, “No, that was Bobby’s idea of a family portrait.”

Dean smiled sadly, before turning back and settling onto the couch.

“The rest though, yeah those are mine. It’s a hobby.” He leaned forward, grabbing the first growler, “Irish Death?! Please, tell me that’s what’s in here.”

“Straight from the brewery,” Cas pulled the tape off the lid and laughed at Dean’s expression of awe, “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get any this far from the Northwest to be honest, so I made sure to bring a few.”

“Good call, man, I haven’t had any of this since Portland.”

“So you’ve been up around there?” Cas took a grateful sip of his beer.

“I’ve been pretty much everywhere, moved around a lot growing up, didn’t get settled here until Sammy decided on this college.”

“You guys grow up military?”

“You could say that.” Dean’s posture stiffened slightly and Cas decided to leave it at that. No pissing off the neighbor before he’d even finished his first beer.

“You and your brother seem close, the way you talk about him anyway.” Cas hoped he was in safer conversational waters and let out a relieved breath when the other man smiled again.

“Yeah, me and Sammy, well, it’s always been me and him. Been taking care of that little squirt since I was a little squirt myself.” Dean took a long pull from his glass before going on, “What about you and yours? I know you said you’re scattered now, but before?”

“I don’t know, I guess you could say I was close to Gabriel, and Anna of course. But Michael was much older than me, and he was always with Lucifer. I think I was more of a nuisance to them.”

“Jeez, you weren’t kidding with the religious family were you?”

Cas shrugged.

“I haven’t spoken to any of them, other than Anna, for a while now. Gabe is off doing whatever Gabe does, and after the big fall out, Michael won’t speak to or of Lucifer. He’s busy working for my Father anyway.”

“You didn’t want to work for your Dad?”

“I did work for him for a while,” Cas paused, “but, it wasn’t for me so I left. It’s been hard, but worth it.”

“Hey, I can understand that.” Dean seemed thoughtful, “Me and Sam, we’re pretty close now, but there was a bit where he left. Didn’t want to work for Dad either. It was three years before I got back in touch with him. Took a year off and ended up here, together.”

He gestured to the picture Cas had originally asked about.

“That’s him there, the moose with the hair.”

Cas laughed at the description, though compared to the others in the photo it was appropriate.

Dean drained his glass and motioned for Cas to hand him the growler.

“Enough of this, I promised passable conversation and I guide us right into, ‘I am not sober enough for this shit’ territory.”

“I feel I helped sail that ship just as much as you did, so to repeat your earlier words, no harm done.”

His glass refilled, Dean did the same with Cas’.

“To new neighbors.”

Cas lightly clinked his drink against Dean’s.

“To new neighbors.”

Dean smiled.

“Now, that’s something I can drink to.”

~.~

 

And drink they did, until the first growler had emptied, continuing through the take out delivery where Dean insisted on paying by flat out refusing Castiel’s offered cash.

 “You brought the beer.” He fixed him with a glare that dared him to argue.

On they went through the first half of the second growler and a light hearted argument about record selection.

“What?! How can you not like Renegade? You’re just not listening to it right.”

Cas was sure there was some logical problem with what Dean had said, but the alcohol was a nice warm buzz rushing through his veins and he couldn’t pinpoint the issue.

“Maybe they aren’t playing it right.” His tongue felt heavy and thick, while Dean looked scandalized at his comment. And there it was again, something definitely wrong with the logic. Or maybe, it was as simple as logic itself was wrong at the moment.

He heard the tell-tale scratch of a record starting, and the beginning strains of the song in question.

“Maybe you’re right, this is actually enjoyable.”

With that settled they kept it up through the second half.

Dean held the empty bottle with a forlorn expression.

“We killed the Irish Death.”

“I don’t think you can kill Death, Dean.”

Dean snorted in a very unmanly fashion, and Cas thought to comment on it, but lost that urge when a wave of dizziness swept over him as he stood to retrieve another growler from his apartment.

“You okay there?” Dean quickly rose and steadied him, Cas took the help gratefully.

“Yeah, just a little drunker than I’d thought, I think, I thought. Maybe, standing is bad.”

“How about I help you home neighbor.”

“Yes, I think, bed would be good right now.”

“Do you even have a bed yet? Whoa, slow down there buddy.” Cas leaned more heavily on Dean as he walked them across the divide between their doors that Cas swore had grown.

“Of course I do, you helped me bring it up.” Cas was becoming concerned that Dean was drunker than him.

The man in question laughed.

“I mean, last I saw your bed it was in pieces.”

Cas swore loudly as they made their way to his room and saw Dean was, in fact, correct. He let his weight slide down the door frame, utterly defeated.

“What are you doing?” he asked confused as Dean moved boxes towards their shared wall.

“Clearing a spot.”

“For what.”

“Your bed, genius.”

“You really don’t have to do that, I can do it.”

Dean looked skeptical.

“Somehow, I doubt that man.”

Cas watched as Dean laid the platform out, slotting the metal into the wooden frame easily, before depositing the box spring and mattress.

“Ho-how are you doing that right now, I can’t get the room to stop spinning?”

“Cas, man, you are a useless drunk!”

“I’m fairly certain I’m not.”

“Useless, or drunk?”

“What are we talking about again?”

Dean’s laugh echoed against the uncovered walls and Castiel groaned.

“Shhh,” he admonished in a loud whisper, “you’ll wake the neighbors!”

“I am the neighbor, idgit.”

“Wha-what did you just call me? I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be insulted right now.”

There was that laugh again, it bounced against his skull.

“If it’s any consolation, I doubt you’ll remember tomorrow.”

Cas wasn’t sure if that was consolation or not, but thought he’d take it anyway.

“Come on princess, up you go.”

He attempted to not be dead weight as Dean helped him off the floor and towards his now put together bed. He tried to be helpful but his movements seemed to have the opposite result as he inadvertently tripped them both right at the foot of the frame. Dean let out a small ‘oof’ before rolling over onto his back and moving Cas’ arm off his face.

“Oh, this is a damned comfortable bed. I’m tempted to just stay right here.”

Cas’ voice was muffled by the mattress when he replied.

“S’oookay, there’s room.”

Again with the laughter; Cas wasn’t sure when he’d become so funny.

“Nah, probably safer I went home pretty boy.”

“I promise I don’t kick, anymore.”

“Maybe not, but I’m a biter.”

“Oh, biting isn’t too bad I guess.” Cas heard and felt the vibrations this time, “Dean, you should laugh smaller, I think I’m getting a headache.”

“Smaller?” the sound boomed again and Cas cringed, “Sorry, I just bet, come tomorrow you’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”

Cas felt the bed roll as Dean heaved himself off of it, mercifully hitting the lights on his way out, letting the black roll over and into him blotting out the rest of the world.

 

~.~

 

 

Castiel woke to pounding and for a moment he wasn’t entirely sure if it was his head or a door. Deciding he’d err on the side of caution he attempted to get out of bed. The pounding started again, this time distinctly out of sync with his aching head.  He’d made it as far as the doorknob before the cursed noise stopped and he heard Dean’s voice low and rushed in the hall.

“Jesus, Sammy! Neighbors you freak. What the hell?”

“I forgot my key, and since when?”

“Since yesterday, and he’s probably not feeling so hot right now, so keep it down asshat. Forgot or lost?”

“Forgot.”

“If I have to change my locks one more time, I swear…”

“Dean, I promise, I just forgot it in my locker at the hospital. What happened to the neighbor?”

“Dude, Irish Death, a lot of it.”

Cas needed coffee, and to find out if crashing laughter actually was genetic or if these two were just insane. As his coffee maker was packed, and he wasn’t braving outside; he saw only one option and took a deep breath before turning the knob.

He deeply regretted the action as light streamed in from the open door across the hall, directly into his sore eyes.

“Ohhh that was a mistake.” He groaned in greeting.

The tall man in front of him turned, blocking a good portion of the sun.

“Oh shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Did I wake you up?” Dean repeated, smacking the man against his shoulder, “What do you think, do people normally stumble out their door groaning around you?”

“Coffee.” A demand, statement, and out and out plea escaped Cas’ lips.

“That I can do.” Dean pushed the man he assumed was Sam inside, “Make yourself useful, start a fresh pot.”

He turned to Cas, his voice softer.

“Sorry about that man, here, come on in. We’ll fix you up.”

Cas made his way to the couch, falling into the soft cushions and wishing the sun would stop strobe lighting the samba that was beating through his brain at the moment. He soon got that relief when the curtains over the windows directly beside him were pulled closed, there was the sound of a fridge door and then Dean returned with a cold bottle he pressed against Cas’ temple before passing it to his hands.

“Hair of the dog.” He offered in explanation for the pale ale he’d brought out. “And Excedrin.” He continued, dropping two pills into Castiel’s open palm.

Cas shot him a grateful look when Dean popped the top of the bottle for him, taking a long drink before swallowing the pills.

“Ugh, thank you.”

“Not a problem. My brother was the one who dragged you out of bed after all.” Dean smirked at Sam as he sat a mug of black coffee on the table in front of Cas. “See, I told you he was a moose with hair. Just call him Bullwinkle.”

“That would make you a squirrel.” Cas managed to blurt it out with a laugh before thinking it might not be best to antagonize the one helping him. “Ow, sorry.”

Sam’s look of utter glee did not help him in any way.

 “I see how it is. Try to help a guy out, get thrown under the bus anyway.”

“At least it wasn’t with a Russian accent.” Cas offered meekly.

“And would that make you Boris?” Sam’s voice was laced with amusement.

“What are you talking about Sammy,” Dean stood, “He’s too pretty to be Boris. He’s obviously Natasha.”

“Otva`li” Cas mumbled around the mouth of the bottle, “Or for you uneducated, Fuck off.”

“Definitely Natasha.” Sam agreed with a broad grin.

“Well, alright ladies, I am off to work because some idiot couldn’t read a plan to save his life.” Dean grabbed his keys off the counter and walked towards the door, “Sam, try not to be a complete dork and scare Cas off. Cas, feel free to use my place while you unpack, and ignore most of what Sam says.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Love you too!” Sam called to Dean’s back as he closed the door.

“You two have an interesting relationship.” Cas felt stable enough to attempt lifting the hot coffee without risk of injury. “My brothers were more…reserved. Well, except Gabriel, but he’s always been kind of an ass.”

“So you’ve got brothers too?”

“Three,” Cas nursed his coffee, “All older.”

“Damn, I am sorry.” Sam shook his head, “I can’t imagine three Dean’s. I’d be driven to violence.”

Cas nodded his head in agreement before realizing just how bad an idea that was.

“Ow, shit.” He rubbed his temples.

“How you doing man?” Sam leaned forward, concern on his face.

“Well, the furry creature that was burrowing in my brain seems to have finally suffocated.” Cas grimaced, “So a little better than before.”

“Here,” Sam took the coffee mug and empty bottle to the sink, returning with a sports drink, “Try this.”

Cas eyed the bottle with more than a little trepidation, not sure his stomach could handle the sweet just yet.

“Trust me,” Sam smiled, “I’m a doctor. Or will be anyway.”

His first swallow was tentative, not entirely trusting, but Sam chuckled at the relief on his face when nothing rebelled and sent it all erupting northward.

“Tell you what, I’ve got jack all to do other than some laundry, why don’t you drink that, take a shower, and I’ll help you unpack? Least I can do for hammering on your hangover like I did this morning.”

Apparently, helping people was genetic as well, but again, Cas wasn’t going to turn down an offer, especially when he felt like this.

~.~

 

Having a veritable giant made unpacking and arranging a lot easier than Cas expected. There were still quite a few boxes to go, but with everything they’d accomplished that wouldn’t be too hard to knock out. He might even start the week completely finished. The thought made him smile, he hated feeling unsettled.

“Hey,” Sam called over, “Any preference for these?”

He’d finished hanging Cas’ higher shelves and was currently unloading the books for them.

“No, those aren’t ones I need often.”

Sam flipped through one of the smaller volumes.

“You can actually read this?”

“Latin is useful in my line of work.”

“Yeah? So what is that exactly?”

Cas closed the cabinet and walked over to the help with books.

“A spot opened up in Mythology at the University.”

“Really? Huh, Dean would love to hear that.”

“Dean would love to hear what?”

Cas turned, they’d left the doors open to take advantage of the records across the hall. Dean was currently occupying that open space.

“Hey good, you put the boy to work.” Dean whistled and looked around impressed, “You guys actually got a lot of shit done today.”

“You look exhausted, and filthy.” Cas blurted out.

“Gee thanks, you sure know how to sweet talk a gal.” Dean took up a spot leaning back against the breakfast bar, “Part of the job; all the sweat, dust, dirt, and callouses a guy could ask for. Can’t complain about the physique it offers though.”

He winked at Cas who turned back towards the box of books to hide a creeping blush. He hadn’t decided if Dean was a natural flirt or just enjoyed embarrassing him.

“Mythology.” Sam tried to answer his earlier question.

“What?” Dean’s face twisted in confusion.

“What you would love to hear,” Sam tried again, “Cas is working in the Mythology department at the college.”

“Really?” Dean perked up. “I’ll have to show you my encyclopedia of things that never existed then.”

“I’d like to see it.” Cas turned, blush under control, and smiled, “Normally I get glazed over looks when I mention my work.”

 “Alright then, it’s a date.” Dean stood and stretched, “But not tonight, tonight I need food and a shower.”

Cas left Sam to finish the books and joined Dean at the counter.

“Well, my fridge is empty, but I make a mean burger if you’ve got the stuff for it.”

“Oh, a man after my own friggin’ heart over here.” Dean’s face looked like it couldn’t stretch much further without injury, “I definitely have the supplies, but you don’t have to cook for us.”

“Please,” Cas dismissed his comment with a wave, “You two have gone above and beyond to help me out. Honestly, I don’t mind.” His eyes were drawn towards the deep v of Dean’s undershirt, small tendrils of black were peeking out from behind one side.

“Well, I’m not gonna try and convince you otherwise.” Dean smirked, leaning further into his space, “That’s food taken care of, any offers of help with the shower?” His eyebrows raised and his smirk turned crooked and broad.

Cas sputtered, unsettled, and looked around quickly to find Sam. He felt he could better gauge this if he could see his reaction.

“Breathe Cas.” Dean chuckled, “He went to change his laundry while you were preoccupied with my tattoo.”

His tone was light and teasing.

“Okay, so my kitchen,” Dean pointed to his apartment, “is your kitchen. I’m going to get cleaned up, if you need anything just send Sam.”

~.~

 

Sam was studying and Dean still hadn’t come out of the shower, given the relative peace he took the opportunity to mull over recent events. It wasn’t that Dean was unattractive, Cas reasoned as he shaped the patties, it was just that Cas was unavailable at the moment. And, while something told him that Dean wouldn’t be averse to a no strings attached, friendly fumble; he wasn’t so sure that was such a great idea with a neighbor and someone he hoped would be a good friend. Anyway, he’d just met the man, and it was possible, he admitted, that he was putting too much thought into this.

The fridge opening brought his focus back to the present.

“And what is this little beauty?” Dean stood by the open door holding one of the beers Cas had brought over.

“A beer.” Cas was proud of himself for not stuttering at the bare chest in front of him paired with low slung, well-worn jeans.

“You don’t say.” The smile was easy and he was relieved.

“I do in fact.” Cas transferred the formed hamburgers onto the pan.

“Sammy?” Dean called out questioningly, holding another bottle up.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m heading back after food anyway, late shift.”

“How about you Cas?” he challenged, “Feeling brave enough to face tomorrow like you did today?”

Cas thought this sounded like a terrible idea.

“I think I’ll risk it.” Is the response he hadn’t intended on giving, but apparently his mouth was a traitor.

“Really. I gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You were dead on your feet this morning.”

“Oh, I’m not drinking that.” He pointed to the bottle of 120 Minute IPA in Dean’s hand, happy his brain had once again engaged, “That’s all yours. I figure anyone who can help me go through two growlers, assemble furniture, and apparently avoid any kind of hangover can also handle a beer that averages out at about 18 percent.”

“18?” Dean kissed the bottle in his hands, “Oh you are my favorite now, yes you are.”

“I’ll stick to my Arrogant Bastard,” he gestured towards one of the other bottles on the shelf. “Grab it for me?”

“Jesus, Cas, did you bring a brewery with you?” Dean asked amused as he opened the bottle and handed it over. “Those smell amazing by the way.”

“Ha, that’s nothing.” Sam joined them and started grabbing plates, moving easily around his brother who had begun pulling condiments out “I helped him unpack. You should see it Dean, he’s got a veritable beer shop in his apartment.”

Cas watched their complicated dance for a moment before slotting himself into it by moving burgers onto the buns Dean had plated.  He laughed as Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam when he offered him the pickles and Sam returned the snark with a bright smile. By the time they’d assembled everything, Dean stopping to grab a shirt from the basket Sam had brought up, and settled in the living room around the coffee table; Cas found himself taken aback by how easily the brothers seemed to have absorbed him into their circus act.

“Do you think you’ll ever have an actual table?” Sam groused as he tried arranging himself around the too short coffee table.

“Sure,” Dean quipped, head motioning towards the large drawing desk in the dining room, “When you finish school and I turn your room into an office.”

“Y’know, I could just stay at the dorms.” Sam offered.

“Yeah right. You’d never get any work done. Or sleep.”

“There’s apartments on campus too.”

“You’re an unpaid intern, and don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty but not that pretty.”

“There’s such things as jobs and loans too Dean.”

“No way Sammy, we talked about this. I bust my ass making the money to pay for you to bust your ass earning the title.” Dean’s smile softened his harsher tone, “Then you can take care of me for a change.”

“Come on Cas, help me out here, tell him he’s being unreasonable.”

Cas was careful, considering.

“Actually, I don’t think he is.” Sam looked betrayed, Dean was triumphant, “I’m sure you’ll already have enough debt without adding more. If your brother is willing to help, I’d take it.”

“What happened to younger brother solidarity man?”

“He obviously recognizes logic.” Dean took a large bite of his burger, groaning in appreciation, “Holy shit Cas, this is amazing.”

“I’m glad I could do something for you guys.” He shrugged sheepishly, “How’s the beer?”

“Oh, this little baby is beautiful. Where the hell did you find it?”

“I brought it down, they don’t release it very often and like I said last night I wasn’t sure of the selection here. So, I tried to bring a few options.”

“No shit, a few options, I’m serious Dean, you have to see these options of his.”

“I’m surprised you remember anything from last night.” Dean chuckled, “You were gone man.”

“Honestly, I am too. Thanks for the help, I’d have probably ended up on the floor without it.”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted, “What am I missing?”

“This guy,” Dean hooked a thumb towards Cas, “could barely stand. So I help him over to his apartment, only his bed is in pieces and he just kind of sat down all sad like a lost puppy. I banged it together for him is all.”

“I was bad enough this morning, can’t even imagine if I’d woken up on the hard floor. I may have murdered you Sam.”

“Just be glad your bed is as easy as it was. I may handle drunk better than you, but much more complicated and I’d have just invited you into mine.”

Cas choked on his drink and Sam laughed, slapping him on the back.

“Dean, you’re gonna traumatize the poor guy.”

“Just being neighborly.” There was that wink again.

Sam laughed again, standing to take his dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for the food, and the entertainment, but I got to head out.”

“Have a great night dear.” Dean’s falsetto made Sam cringe.

“Yeah, ok, you guys try not to drink the whole apartment alright. I don’t need a hung over Dean after an all-night shift.” Sam stage whispered the next part in Cas’ direction, “He whines.”

“Hey! I do not whine.” Dean argued, “I express my feelings in a very manly growl.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his bag.

“And don’t forget your keys again! I am not letting your ass in, you’ll have to beg Cas for bed space.”

“While I’d happily open the door for you Sam, I doubt you’d fit in my bed.”

“Well then, we’d just have to cuddle.” He remarked in a serious tone before finally leaving and closing the door.

 “That,” Dean pointed his empty bottle towards the door for emphasis, “is a terrible idea, he never lets anyone else be the big spoon.”

“You finish that already?” Cas glanced as his own mostly full bottle.

“Huh, guess so.” Dean got up to grab another, stopping Cas as he tried to gather their plates, “Oh no, you cooked, you supplied the beer, again. I got that.”

“I’m not going to argue.” Cas leaned further into the arm of the couch, bringing his bottle with him, “I’d be careful though, those are a lot stronger than what we drank last night.”

“No worries man,” Dean cracked open another and settled himself into the chair, legs thrown open, “I can handle my alcohol just fine.”

“I hope so,” Cas laughed, “Those would be terrible last words.”

~.~

“Who’s the girl?” Dean held up a framed photograph, “She’s hot.”

Cas snatched the frame with a little more force than was needed. Drunken Dean, he was coming to understand, was something like an overlarge child in a room full of breakables. You didn’t want to leave him alone for very long. That seemed to include bathroom breaks.

“Anna,” he glared, “My little sister.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender.

 “She is off limits…to everyone.”

“Point taken.” Dean’s attempt at a serious expression was severely undermined by the laughter Cas could see in his eyes, “Shit, thought you were gonna smite me for a minute there, angel boy.”

“You, You’re enjoying this aren’t you.”

“Absolutely not.” He made another valiant effort, “I am the percture, wait, pirture, fuck, that’s actually kind of hard to say right now.”

“I’m sorry, you’re the what?”

“Hold on, let me try again, I am the perfect picture of inso-dammit, in-no-cense.”

“Somehow, I find it hard to believe.” He had stopped glaring though, “You can’t even say it.”

“Cas! Have some faith.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder, stumbling a bit in the process, “I promise, I won’t bang your sister.”

“I thought you wanted to see the beer?” Cas bristled, “Remember? The reason we came over here in the first place?”

“I do, I did even, now I’m thinking sitting is better.”

Before Cas could stop him, Dean slid to the floor, grabbing his arm and bringing him with. He leaned back against the bar, sighing and bumping his shoulder into Dean’s in retaliation.

“I thought you handled drunk better than me.”

“That was before I met that sweet little IPA of yours.”

“I warned you to be careful.”

“Yeah, well, life’s too short for that much self-control.”

Dean reached into the box beside him, pulling out another picture.

“This your family?” he asked, gesturing towards the carefully arranged group of people.

Cas nodded.

“Let me see if I can guess.” He studied the faces for a minute before continuing, “I’m gonna go with Mom and Dad, obviously.”

“How very astute of you.” Cas found himself smiling in spite of his reluctance to touch on this subject.

“This guy right here, gotta be Michael,” he pointed to the dark haired, serious man who stood proudly next to his Father. “he looks like he could use a stick removal, just saying.”

Seeing Cas’ smile grow broader, he went on.

“This one, well, I know who she is of course, the beautiful Anna.” His eyebrows cocked and Cas glared again.

“Right, sorry. We aren’t going there, I forgot.” The look on his face was anything but contrite, “Okay, so Gabriel?” His finger was on the shorter man, the only one whose smile wasn’t forced. “Which would make this guy, Luci. Man, you weren’t kidding about him and Michael, you can see the tension even in 2d.”

Cas snorted at the idea of someone calling his older brother Luci.

“What is the story there anyway?”

“Stupid, prideful, it started before my time really.”

“Before my time, you make it sound biblical.”

“For us?” Cas shrugged, “It kind of was. I mean, for as long as I can remember those two were arguing. Both vying for my Father’s attention and over the company. Lucifer questioned my Father endlessly, which in my household was not something that was done. You did what you were told, end of story.”

“Been there.” Dean barked out a harsh laugh.

“Michael, of course, followed my Father to the letter. Gabriel did his best to keep me out of it, until I was old enough to do it on my own, at which point he decided the best way to keep out of it was to leave.” Cas sighed, “I looked out for Anna until I did the same. Lucifer never had the choice, he was ordered out and we weren’t to speak of him again. I heard my Mother crying sometimes, but she wouldn’t go against him either.”

“Your Dad sounds like a dick.”

“He could be rather negligent and stubborn I guess you could say.”

“Cas, my Dad was negligent and stubborn on his best days. Your Dad is a dick.”

“You’re right, he was a dick.”

~.~

 

They’d never made it to the beer, Cas had been in the middle of explaining Gabe's love of pranks when he realized his companion was no longer paying attention, in fact, he appeared to be sleeping. He’d attempted to wake Dean but only managed to get him to sleepily cooperate in standing, feet shuffling and leaning heavily on Cas as he maneuvered them across the hall. Now, Cas was  almost home free, and very thankful he’d stayed with just the one beer to Dean’s probable alcohol poisoning. The drunk in question was currently hanging off his shoulder and not providing much help in the way of getting to his bed. Without a clear view of where he was going and feet not quite as steady as he preferred, it was inevitable that he would find the one inconsistency in the floor.

Lurching forward and unable to keep both his balance and Dean’s, he let go, accidentally dumping him into the door frame.

“Ow!” Dean’s voice was indignant, “Did I grab your ass or something, fuck.”

“What, no.”

 “I’m trying to figure out what I did to make you hit me.”

“I didn’t hit you, and you didn’t grab my ass.”

“Then what did hit me?”

“The floor.”

“Why the hell did it do that?”

“I, well, I may have…dropped you.”

There was no response.

“Are you okay?”

Still nothing.

“Dean? I honestly didn’t mean to, are you alright?”

Cas still got nothing, he leaned over to see if his companion was even still awake.

“Dean…” Cas was baffled, “Are you pouting?”

“Maybe.”

“C’mon princess,” Cas attempted to pull him from the floor, mirroring Dean’s line to him, “Up you go.”

“Does that make you my prince?”

“Help me here,” Cas struggled, dead weight was one thing, giggling dead weight was impossible. “Unless you want me to drop you again.”

 “You know who would make a good prince? Sammy. It’s the hair, or maybe he’d be a better princess.”

Cas had finally managed to get their feet mostly underneath them when dizziness reared its ugly head. Grabbing onto the forearms in front of him would have worked much better if Dean hadn’t chosen that moment to sway backwards. The resulting momentum sent the pair crashing into the wall behind them, Cas slamming into Dean’s chest.

“Shit.” Dean groaned, “I take it back, no need for violence, you can be the prince.”

“Shhh.” Cas pleaded against the shirts fabric, head spinning.

“What are you shushing me for? I’m not the one who slammed us into a wall here.” Dean’s laugh shook through Cas, “I gotta say, this is not how I figured it’d go down.”

“Sorry, I got dizzy and you’re not really helping here.”

“S’not what I meant.” He snorted into Cas’ hair, “I just figured it’d be the other way around is all.”

“Yeah, well,” Cas felt steady enough to start moving them towards the bed again, “That was last night. Tonight you’re the useless drunk.”

“You’re killin’ me here man.” Dean landed on his back, bouncing slightly against the mattress.

“I assure you it’s not my intention. Besides, I’m sure the IPA will be killing you tomorrow.”

Cas staggered his way out of the bedroom door.

“Does this mean I don’t get a kiss?” he called out to Cas’ retreating back.

“Yep.”

“Oh come on, I said I’d leave your sister alone didn’t I?”

The front door opening was his only reply.

“Some prince you turned out to be!”

Castiel shook his head, locking the Winchesters door before closing it and heading to his own apartment.

He highly doubted Dean would be up for providing coffee the next morning so he set about finishing the kitchen. There wasn’t much to do really, and once the coffee had been set he decided it was high time for a long shower and bed. The fact that he hadn’t had the chance to properly enjoy his new shower seemed criminal to be honest. His phone, having been pretty much forgotten since he’d plugged it in, had other ideas and was flashing insistently. He had messages.

Cas sighed and grabbed it off the counter, highly doubting he’d want to return any of them. Scrolling through the list of missed calls, he found he was right. Most were from Michael, one from his Father. They’d each left voicemails that he quickly deleted, he’d heard enough the day he’d left.

Anna’s name leapt out at him, and he wavered over hitting play or skipping on to a promising message from Gabriel. Anna’s messages were a toss-up, she didn’t call often and when she did it was either a forced regurgitation of his Father and Michael, or an honest plea for his return that twisted his gut. At least Gabe was usually good for a laugh. Fighting down guilt he ignored both and went back to the second half of his original plan, foregoing the long shower and dropping into his mattress instead.

~.~

 

Thanks to his decision to drink lightly the night before, Cas woke easily and early that morning. Finally getting the chance to break in his shower stall, the water felt wonderful against the muscles he hadn’t realized he’d abused so badly that weekend. It was his last free day before he’d be expected to start at the college; and, if he timed it right he’d have time to check out his new work-space before the end of it.

Fully showered and feeling better than he had in quite a while, he made a last minute decision to skip the coffee for now, grabbing a bottle of water and his running shoes instead.

He nodded at Sam who was coming in as he was going out and took a slow breath of the humid air before turning towards the college. The sun was just rising and it seemed a good a time as any to figure out the best route; get a decent feel for how his Monday should go.

He made great time getting to the college; and, after a small adventure to locate his office, he found and made small talk with the T.A., ran a mental tally of what he needed to bring with him the next day, thanked him for his time and started back home at a leisurely pace.

All in all the morning had been a success so far and by the time he made it back to his front door he was feeling great; thoughts of missed calls and voicemails having completely escaped him. Dean slipped into the hallway just as Cas had gotten his apartment open.

“Oh hey, there you are.” Dean followed Cas into the now open door, “Thanks for helping me to bed last night.”

“I figured I owed you one.” Cas pulled a mug from the cabinet and raised the carafe in offering.

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean nodded in acceptance. “You look as rough as I feel.”

“I was running.” Cas was puzzled by the disgusted look that passed over Dean’s face as he held out the now full mug.

“Was something chasing you?” An eyebrow raised as he took the proffered cup and settled onto a stool.

“Y’know Dean, some people run because it’s good for you.” The younger Winchester made his way across the hall, leaning in the open doorway.

“Screw that, if you see me running, I guarantee something’s chasing me.”

“Dude, you are a massive coronary waiting to happen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing my baby brother’s gonna be a doctor.”

Cas smiled at the constipated look that crossed Sam’s face.

“I’m surprised you’re up and about so early.” He gestured towards Dean with his cup, “You passed out on my floor.”

Sam snorted.

“What can I say,” Dean smiled proudly, “I’m made of stronger stuff than you mere mortals.”

“What he means, is that he started drinking when he was thirteen and miraculously has an iron liver.”

“Thirteen?” Cas choked on his coffee.

“Trust me,” Dean grimaced, “it was necessary to make it to fourteen.”

Sam shrugged in agreement.

“He’s not lying.”

Cas found himself once again wondering exactly what the Winchester’s childhood had entailed. Dean groaned, his head resting against the cool counter top in front of him. Cas watched Sam leave and return with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, a large stack of books in his hands. Books that he suddenly, and violently, deposited onto the surface as close to his brother as he could without actually braining him. Dean’s head shot up, hands following quickly in an attempt to steady what Cas assumed was a throbbing headache.

“Jesus wept, Sammy!” Dean’s voice was somewhere between an indignant whine and a growl, “What the actual hell was that for?”

“What happened to stronger stuff than us mere mortals?” the younger man teased.

“God, you are such a little bitch.” That was definitely a whine Cas decided.

Sam seemed to agree with his unspoken assessment.

“See Cas…”he smirked, dancing out of his brother’s reach, “Told you he whines.”

“I swear to all that is holy you gangly son-of-a-bitch,” and we were back to growling, “if you’re still standing there when this ringing in my ears stops I will kill you. Moose or not, I will end you.”

Sam laughed loudly, sliding his books into the bag he’d deposited on the couch.

“Stop it you hyena.”

Cas was terribly amused at this whining/growling version of Dean.

“If you kill him Dean,” he struggled to keep the laughter out of his voice, “I’ll never get the security deposit back.”

Dean fixed a glare on Cas who suddenly found himself very interested in wiping up the coffee he didn’t spill.

“Alright Cas,” Sam slung the bag over his shoulder, “You got him into this state, he’s all yours. I have a study group to get to. Don’t wait up.”

“Do you have -“

“Yes Dad.” Sam interrupted, jangling the key ring over his head as he disappeared down the hall.

“Such a snarky little shit.” Dean shook his head slightly before thinking better of it and resuming his position on the counter.

Cas took the opportunity to slip across the hall and raid the Winchester’s kitchen for breakfast supplies.

“Caaaaas.” He smirked at the very unmanly noise coming from his apartment.

“Yes Dean.” Cas returned, arms full, and started assembling a work-space. He made quick work of the potatoes, pouring a generous amount of oil into the pan to heat while he shredded hash browns. Greasy food always made him feel better after a night of drinking. Shredded potatoes now hissing in the hot pan he realized Dean had never replied and turned to check on his hung over neighbor.

He was currently slumped over, legs splayed on either side of the stool, head resting on his folded arms against the top of the bar.

“Dean?” Cas inquired gently.

Dean hissed and grimaced as he raised his head to meet Cas’.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he attempted to reach back to rub his own neck, “I just don’t think I moved after you left is all. Pulled my back funny sleeping with my feet on the floor like that.”

“Oh,” Cas felt bad for not making sure his friend was actually on the bed before he left, especially considering how Dean had helped him with his own hell.

“Here,” Cas walked around behind him, “I’m actually quite proficient at this.”

“You don’t have to-“ Deans protest quickly dissolved into a groan of appreciation, arms falling to his sides and head settling back in its position on the bar as Cas’ fingers expertly worked the knots in his shoulders.

Dean whined as Cas stepped away to check the stove.

“Hold on,” he chuckled as he turned the hash browns, “unless you want to add the smell of burnt oil to that hangover.”

“Ugh, don’t say that.”

“Sorry.” He pulled the pan off the heat to let them continue on their own steam and returned to his previous task. Marveling at how tense the muscles beneath his fingers were, he was happy to notice that they were relaxing rather quickly under his ministrations.

“You didn’t have to cook breakfast Cas,” Dean’s voice was slow and sleepy against the bar, “I don’t think I can handle food right now anyway.”

Mindful of his friend’s relaxed state and not wanting to disturb it by speaking louder than necessary, Cas leaned forward gently, close enough to Dean’s ear so he could speak quietly and still be heard.

“Trust me.”

Due to his proximity he felt Dean’s harsh intake of breath and hoped he hadn’t spoken too loudly, aggravating the poor man’s headache.

“K.”

His voice was shaky and Cas felt for him, he well remembered how badly his own brain had throbbed the morning after his first introduction to the 120 IPA.

“I tell you what,” Cas pulled back, keeping his voice low as he set about making plates, “why don’t you move to the couch, it’ll be much better for your back, and I’ll bring the food in there.”

Dean grunted in agreement and relocated. Cas smirked at the suspicious look Dean shot the plate of greasy food, laughing softly when that same suspicion morphed into appreciation after his first hesitant bite. He retrieved the mug of coffee off the bar and paired it with a cold pale ale as Dean had done for him.

Seeing his friend was settled, and not wanting to put off the last of his unpacking any longer, Cas moved to the closest box and set about finishing up his new apartment. He was engrossed in arranging his small collection of photos when he heard the tell-tale sound of dishes being washed.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.” He admonished slightly.

“I know, but I already did.” He offered Cas a half smile, “No use getting upset about it now.”

“I feel you’ve taken the role of cleaner in this relationship.” Cas teased.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it,” Dean groused good-naturedly, “but if you cook for me, least I can do is clean up after.”

“I suppose if we are defining roles, I’d prefer to cook over clean.”

“I dunno,” Dean scratched his chin thoughtfully, “how are you at pie?”

“I even have a specialty when it comes to pie.” Cas smiled at the guarded look of excitement that was threatening the man’s face across from him.

“Oh, and that is?”

“Pecan.”

This seemed to be a good answer as that previous excitement broke through in full force, though Dean seemed to reign it in before actually bouncing in place.

“Sold.”

Cas laughed and turned back to his task.

~.~

 

Dean had left, stating he’d be back after a shower, leaving Cas alone and able to quickly finish the last boxes in his office. He had just one or two in the living room left when Dean returned, hair still damp and smiling as he produced a pen and pad to a confused Castiel.

“Need a list.”

“Are you looking for a particular list or will any old one do?”

“A shopping list.” Dean shook the pen, urging him to take it, “For pie. You can’t mention pecan pie and not make it. So you list, I’ll buy, you bake.”

“I think you forgot you clean.”

“I will clean for pie, I got no problem with that deal.”

Cas laughed but quickly scribbled out a list of ingredients he didn’t currently have.

“Keep that in mind when you see the state of the kitchen afterwards.” He warned with a smile.

“Awesome,” Dean snagged the notebook, “I’ll be back. The door’s open if you need anything.”

Amused at the enthusiasm, and more than mildly impressed at the man’s ability to seemingly recover from his hangover so quickly, Cas decided a quick shower wouldn’t be remiss. He had a feeling pie was a serious business with the older Winchester, and he doubted Dean would wait any longer than necessary for the process to start.

His suspicion was correct, he’d hardly turned the water off and reached for his towel when he heard Dean calling for him from the living room. Dean whistled when he walked out clad in his towel.

“A show with my baked goods?” he teased, grinning broadly.

“Sorry,” Cas mentally cursed his blush that was taking over his torso, “Didn’t expect you back so quickly.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean turned to deposit the bags onto the bar, “there’s no such thing as speed limits in the pursuit of happiness.”

Cas raised his voice so he could still be heard from his bedroom.

“I sincerely hope you’re joking.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Seeing the raised eyebrow as Cas joined him in the kitchen he amended his statement, “Honest, the store’s right on the corner, I didn’t even drive.”

“What’s all this?” Cas poked through the bags to make sure everything was in order, “I agreed to pie, steak wasn’t mentioned.”

“Oh that, that is my genius.” Dean grabbed the bags and motioned for Cas to follow him across the hall, “I mean, I’m more than okay with pie as the entire meal but Sammy would object. So you bake and I’ll man the steaks that way Mr. Healthnut gets clean up. And if we do it over here, he’ll have no choice but to suck it up and do it. He can’t stand a dirty kitchen.”

“Devious.”

“Genius.”

“Oh, I’m not disparaging your plan,” Cas laughed, “on the contrary, I’m very much on board. I am curious though.”

Dean had finished unloading the bags and was currently separating his things from Cas’ while Cas started opening cabinets to retrieve the items they needed.

“About?” Dean questioned, taking what Cas was offering and setting up their respective work spaces.

“You seem to have recovered remarkably well from your hangover. Would that be due to your stronger than us mere mortals claim?”

“That, and, these babies.” Dean opened his palm to show two pills Cas didn’t recognize before tossing them into his mouth, “That back massage did a pretty good job too, so thanks for that.”

“You are very welcome, it honestly was no trouble.”

“Hey, Cas?” Dean’s lips quirked up in a half smile.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas was too busy measuring to register the humor.

“Have you always been so proper?”

“Pardon?”

“That, right there. I mean, I know I haven’t known you very long but most of the time you kinda talk like a stodgy old professor.”

“Well,” Cas paused, thoughtful, “one could argue that I am a stodgy old professor.”

“I’m pretty sure you aren’t.” Dean eyed the meat hammer in his hand with an excitement Cas was a little wary of to be honest, “I’m also pretty sure that your students will agree with me, Mr. Novak.” He winked and Cas momentarily forgot that he was holding an egg, his grip a little too tight considering the circumstances.

“Oh, hey,” Dean grabbed a paper towel to help mop the egg mess from the counter, “No abusing the pie ingredients. Did I offend you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, not at all.” Cas mumbled, “I, uh, I’m not sure what you mean anyway.”

“You’ll see, just, word to the wise; don’t go accepting any pleas to meet in your office after hours alright?”

“Of course not Dean, that would be highly unprofessional.” Cas looked affronted at the suggestion.

Dean laughed at the reaction.

“See, proper.”

“I feel as though I should apologize, I was not aware of it.”

“No, no I didn't mean it in a bad way.” Dean set the hammer next to the steaks, turning to face Cas’ confusion, “Most people, when they do that, well they can’t pull it off y’know. Come off sounding like a dick who thinks they’re better than everybody else. But you? I don’t know man, it just kind of fits. Sounds right.”

“If you say so.” Cas shrugged, “I suppose I've always been this way. Appearances were very important to my family. I believe you would fit my father into that category, though I am glad you don’t feel that way about me, I assure you I don’t think I’m better than anyone.”

“I know, it’s all good.” Dean had picked up the hammer again and set upon mercilessly attacking their dinner.

Cas shook his head and went back to his own task. He had always enjoyed baking, something his father had scoffed at, but his grandmother had encouraged when possible. She’d taught him how to feel his way, to trust his hands instead of instruments, and that many people failed to realize that you could easily pass the right amount of handling and head straight into too much when it came to dough. The motions soothed him now, reminded him of Sunday afternoons in his family’s kitchen with his grandmother softly chiding him and praising him often in the same breath. Anna, so small at the time, sitting on the counter and stealing the sweetest bits of whatever they were making. Gabe cradling a swatted hand as he’d attempted the same, with less success. He smiled at the memories, happy that he could enjoy those parts of his past without the ever present guilt and sucking hole of loneliness. It was true that he’d felt lonely as a child, but at the time he’d had no idea what being truly without family was like. The crust finished and pressed into the pan, he moved it aside and began measuring out the filling. This had always been Anna (and Gabe’s) favorite part to any of their baking, when the sugary mixtures were concocted and spoons offered for tasting.

Perhaps out of reflex, he found himself extending the spoon towards Dean who was currently sitting at the bar and had been watching the process with a thoughtful expression. Cas noticed that despite his claim of putting Sam to work, Dean had already cleaned his own space. The steaks resting in the fridge, potatoes cleaned and wrapped for the oven, he’d even cleared away some of Cas’ debris, and accepted the spoonful happily.

“That is beautiful, truly. I admit, I was a little worried when you pulled out the bourbon, but I will never doubt you again.”

Cas laughed and finished pouring the mixture into the shell, the oven already preheated and waiting when he turned around again, he slid the pie in and set the timer for half an hour so he could shield the edges then and prevent it from over browning.

“So,” Dean stood, stretching, “What now?”

“I need to finalize my plans for this coming week, but,” Cas looked towards the oven, “I’m not sure I want to leave and risk missing the timer.”

“Oh, hey that’s no problem,” Dean headed towards the drawing desk, “I can clear this off and level it for you, it’ll just take a minute.”

Cas nodded and left to retrieve what he needed from his own apartment, when he’d returned Dean had the desk ready for him and not to Cas’ surprise, had already cleared the counters of the remaining mess and was busy washing the dishes. He smiled to himself and decided that it may not be Sam who had an issue with a dirty kitchen, though he kept his thoughts to himself and instead spread his work across the large desk. They passed the time that way, pausing only when the timer went off or to spare the occasional glance at Dean who was currently shooting people on the screen and intermittently cursing campers in the mic he was wearing. Cas wasn't really sure what camping had to do with warfare, but it was amusing nonetheless.

When the pie had finished and was cooling, Dean had offered Cas a beer and he took it with a nod of thanks. Noting the two empty bottles on the coffee table, and Dean’s quick toss of another pill into his mouth. He wondered briefly if he should say something about the dangers of mixing what he assumed were narcotics and alcohol, but dismissed the notion. He didn't want to risk insulting his friend. Instead he went back to the desk and continued, determined to finish before dinner.

This was how Sam found them, Dean still on the couch (though he’d traded the war game for something involving a guitar) and Cas bent over his books and notebooks. Though he owned a laptop and used it frequently, nothing was quite as solid for him as a pen and paper.

“You’re home early.”

Cas looked up to see Dean set aside the guitar and greet his brother with a smile.

“And you’re in a much better mood than I thought you’d be. Still planning my murder?”

Sam was eyeing Dean with a slightly wary expression, Cas didn't blame the man.

“Nah, you’re safe. For now.”

“Really, what got you so chipper?” He was slightly surprised and looked to Cas who shrugged in answer.

“Cas has magic hands.” Dean chuckled lightly, wiggling his fingers in demonstration.

Sam looked alarmed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dude, I’m telling you, heaven.” His smile had widened, he seemed to be enjoying Sam’s confusion.

“Dean, my hands are neither magic nor heavenly. Possibly you’re just inexperienced in this area.”

Cas felt as though he were missing some key component to this exchange.

“Don’t listen to him Sammy, he’s being modest, and possibly insulting but I don’t care. Magic.”

“Cas?”, Sam was still standing in the doorway, bag resting half off his shoulder, ”Do we need to have a ‘if you hurt my brother’ conversation?”

“I don’t think so?” Cas was confused by Sam’s discomfort, perhaps Dean’s back was worse than Cas had known.

“Sammy! Cas would never hurt me, he’s a prince. With magical, heavenly hands.” There was the finger waving again.

Cas tried to remember if he’d missed something regarding an ongoing injury; but, the man seemed fine and Cas didn't think he had.

“I have no idea how to respond to this.” Sam looked towards Cas for help.

“Your brother was very tense, my fault really, and I relieved the tension for him.”

Sam’s face did not clear, if anything it twisted further.

“I, yeah, I’m not sure I need to hear this honestly. Scratch the ‘hurt my brother’, how about a ‘let’s not over share’ conversation.” He grimaced.

 Cas shrugged, “I apologize, I didn't know a back rub was such a private thing for you Sam.”

“Oh thank god,” Sam visibly relaxed before catching himself, “No-not that it would be a problem, or that I would have a problem, it’s not like it hasn't, I mean, wouldn't be surprised, but, uh, anyway.” The bag he’d been holding slid to the floor and Sam brought a hand to his face, laughing shortly. “Oh, man, okay.”

“Are you alright Sam?” Cas hadn't seen Sam babble before.

“Yes, yeah.” He shook his head before gesturing towards Dean who was currently laughing silently, whole body shaking. He’d started giggling right around Cas’ comment on relieving tension and had totally lost it around Sam’s reply about over sharing, “But, unless you really do have magic in those hands, I doubt a massage did that.”

“No. That would probably be the medicine he’s taken.”

“Do you know what he took?” Sam’s face was once again screwed up in concern and Cas wondered if he should have said something to Dean before.

“I’m not certain, a small blue oval and a larger yellow one.” He was fairly certain those were what Dean had shown him.

Sam walked over to where Dean was finally composing himself and quickly snagged the beer out of his breathless brother’s hands.

“Hey! Foul!”

“Oh no, you are not drinking if you were taking pills again Dean.” Sam’s voice was light but the words serious.

“Oh c’mon, they’re mine aren’t they? They’re for pain. I was in pain, I took some.”

“One or the other man, not both.”

“Sammy you’re no fun, how did I raise you to be no fun?”

“By continually showing me the aftermath of said fun.”

Dean looked equal parts amused and indignant, neither of which paired well with the pout he was attempting to pull off.

“Do I smell pie?” Sam ignored his brother and turned making his way into the kitchen.

“Oh! Hey, guess what.” Dean forgot his sulking at the mention of pie, “Cas bakes! Dude, pecan pie.”

“Did you wish really hard?” Sammy’s voice vibrated with laughter.

“Don’t be jealous Samantha, I’m sure he can make a mean salad for you sometime.”

Dean had followed him and for a moment Sam looked concerned but visibly relaxed as the bottle he pulled out was a water bottle instead of brown glass.

“Oh, be still my heart.”

Castiel watched the exchange, and though Sam’s voice was playful his eyes seemed far away as he tracked Dean’s progress back to the couch. He tried to push away his own guilt at not putting his concern for Dean’s welfare above his concern for their fledgling friendship.

“Oh, no, Cas,” Sam was looking disapprovingly at his pen and notebooks, “Don’t tell me you’re resisting the 21st Century like my caveman of a brother here.”

“Hey!” Dean seemed insulted, “I am not a caveman, and I just appreciate the classics.”

“Your car still has a cassette player Dean.”

“And? Other cars have cassette players Sammy.”

“Only a cassette player. You only have CD’s of things you can’t find in vinyl, and that’s another thing Dean, you still buy CD’s.”

Cas looked from his pen to Sam, unsure how to explain how the experience of moving the pen against the paper relaxed and grounded him in a way that the clicking of keys could never accomplish.

“I find the feel of the pen relaxing, I will, of course, transfer my plans to my laptop later; but, I find writing it out first makes it easier for me to transfer my thoughts to the page.”

Sam stared at him.

“You are.” He accused, “You're just like the caveman over there.”

Cas cocked his head, sending Dean a silent question.

“That’s what I told him,” Dean explained, “When he asked me why I drew my blueprints by hand instead of digitally.”

Cas found himself pleased to know that Dean understood his thoughts, that he shared them as well.

“So,” Sam interrupted his exploration of those feelings, “What’s for dinner, other than pie.”

“Dean is making steaks and potatoes.” Cas started stacking his work, he was happy with what he’d accomplished, “I can, if you’d like, start a salad as well.”

“I can do that, you made the pie, I can contribute too.”

Cas sat at the bar, watching Sam and Dean as they moved around each other with a practiced grace. He smiled and laughed at their complaints that lacked any actual heat, and wondered at the sense of family that the pair exuded. It was a warmth that touched Castiel and made him feel in awe of his place in it. The sense of inclusion continued through dinner and Cas found himself remembering the weekend with a fond smile long after he’d left the brothers and settled himself into his bed. It seemed he had traveled a long distance in the last two days, from his extreme embarrassment over quite literally falling all over Dean when they’d first met to a burgeoning sense of friendship. For the first time in quite a while, Cas dreamed and instead of shadows, they were full of light.

~.~


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel let himself into his apartment dropping his bag onto the counter and himself into his sofa with a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a bad first week, had even gone better than he could have expected, but it had been extraordinarily _busy_. His students ran the gambit between overconfident to overly questioning and he’d been quick to identify them in his lectures; there were more than a handful of those he expected to frequently see outside of his office. Not, he suspected, for the reasons Dean had alluded to either. He turned towards his door as he thought of the brothers across the hall. Their work week had been as full as his, if the hurried morning hello’s and bone tired dragging of feet up the stairs late into the evening had been any indication. Being on the same campus, he had seen Sam on occasion, though he was normally running late for something or buried in the library. Cas had only glimpsed Dean when he was returning from his morning runs, the other man would be slipping into his car, coffee in hand with a nod of greeting before he left.

If he was being honest with himself, he was very much hoping that he’d be able to spend more time with them over the next two days. This could account for his leaving the front door slightly open when he’d come in, an invitation if one was needed. Though they’d spent much of the last weekend coming and going as they pleased in the apartments, Cas did not want to assume that his neighbors were as willing or lacking any kind of plans as he was. Content that no matter the answer to that, he had found an interesting and seemingly old piece on Demeter to keep his attention, Cas pulled the book out of his bag before stretching across the couch and attempting to coax the story from the verse in front of him. He soon found himself in that other space that so often came with reading, and though he knew this particular passage inside and out Cas still enjoyed the feeling of being wholly immersed in the work, the world slipping away around him until he felt as though he were there. Felt as though he were following Demeter, experiencing her heartbreaking grief as she searched for her daughter. Zeus was beginning to fear the world’s death if he did not intervene when Cas was abruptly brought back by a face looking down on his.

“Heya, Cas.” Sam’s hair framed his face and crowded his eyes.

Cas set the book aside and realized he’d missed quite a lot of activity as reality came into focus again. Music across the hall, the sounds of dishes being moved, and the smell of food was invading his senses.

“I’ve been sent to retrieve you for dinner.” Sam smiled, “I’ve been told to use force if I have to.”

Stomach now growling at the scents coming from across the hall, Cas stood to follow Sam.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Cas was sheepish as another rumbling growl came from him, “My stomach seems to be more than willing.”

He had done as much as he could in the last week to give his apartment a sense of home, small touches here and there to make it appear lived in, but walking from his own into the Winchesters, Cas was struck by the difference. True, they had lived there longer and it stood to reason it would be more lived in as it literally was; but, Cas felt that didn’t truly account for the feeling that you encountered when you entered. Their apartment was full, their presence in every corner while Cas’ seemed cold in comparison.

“Good, Sammy managed to pull you out.” Dean stood in the kitchen, three plates on the bar waiting to be grabbed, “I looked in when I got home but you were pretty into whatever you were reading.”

“I apologize,” Cas took the food being put into his hands and followed into the living room, “I found a volume in the library today that I hadn’t seen before.”

“No worries,” Dean smiled and sat next to Cas, leaving the chair open for Sam, “I figured I’d give you a while, then drag you out if needed.”

“I appreciate the intervention, I don’t think I’ve eaten since lunch and that was just a sandwich I grabbed from a coffee stand.”

Dean waved off his gratitude, “I think we all just kind of survive during the week, so weekends I try to make sure and eat something that doesn’t come from a diner or a cart. Not that I mind diners really, kind of par for course growing up, but Sammy insists my cholesterol can’t handle them 24/7.”

“I can’t say that I have much experience with them to be honest.” Cas shrugged, “Growing up, dinner at the family table was not negotiable.”

He tried to picture his father in a diner and found it amusing but impossible. His family had rarely eaten out, and when they had it was never diner fare.

“They got pie going for them, and grease. That’s about it, so I don’t think you missed out on much. Especially with that pie you baked last Sunday.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” Cas had left the remaining pieces with Dean, given the gleam in his eye he hadn’t suspected he had much choice.

“Don’t tell Sammy,” Dean leaned in conspiratorially, Cas caught himself moving to meet him, “It made up all of my meals Monday.”

“What were you reading?” Sam had returned from the kitchen with three pale ales, opened and passed them around, “You didn’t even hear me come in.”

“Unfortunately, while I hadn’t come across this particular book before, it was a common story of Demeter. Still, very enjoyable no matter the familiarity.”

“Demeter,” Dean paused thoughtfully, “She the one who was in charge of harvests? Lost her daughter right?”

“Yes,” Cas was surprised, given the man’s excitement at finding out his job he supposed he shouldn’t have been,” Persephone.”

“Oh right, Persephone, ate the seeds and got trapped with Hades.”

“I’d forgotten you expressed interest in mythology.” Cas smiled when he remembered a promise, “I believe you were going to show me some kind of encyclopedia?”

“I did, didn’t I.” Dean leaned back into the sofa with his beer.

“Ah, the encyclopedia of things that never existed, also known as Dad’s journal.” Sam pulled a face that was difficult for Castiel to decipher.

“Your father was interested in mythology as well?” He focused his question at Dean.

“In a way, you could say that.” Dean hedged.

“If by interested you mean life consuming obsession, sure.” Sam swallowed his sudden ire at the glare from Dean, “Anyway, I have a date, so you two geek out to your twisted hearts content.”

“Another one, huh.” Dean seemed happy to change the subject, “Same girl?”

“If you have to know, yes.” Sam reluctantly answered.       

“So, when do I get to meet this mystery girl?” The mischievous glint in Dean’s eye was unmistakable.

“I don’t know?” Sam paled, “Never?”

“C’mon, can’t hide her forever baby brother.”

“No, maybe not, but I can definitely try.” Sam deposited his dishes in the sink and made a hasty exit, “Got my keys, don’t wait up.”

“You don’t have any idea who she is do you?”

Castiel remembered a certain blonde he’d seen around campus with Sam. He thought of sharing this with Dean but, wisely, decided to keep quiet.

“To be honest, I’ve been so busy I didn’t see Sam very often. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Dean stood, grabbing both his and Cas’ dishes, “He’ll either cut her loose or bring her around eventually.”

“And what about you?” Cas picked at an invisible thread in his shirt, not entirely sure why this question made him nervous.

“Me?”

“Will you be bringing someone around eventually as well?”

“Cas,” Dean smirked playfully, “are you asking me if I have a girlfriend.”

“Well, I-I don’t want to assume,” Cas stammered slightly, “I mean, I appreciate and enjoy your company, but I wouldn’t want to presume you are available.”

“No worries, I don’t have a girl you’re keeping me from,” Dean winked, “or a guy.”

Cas felt a small rush of pleasure at the disclosure.

“I’m glad,” Dean’s smirk widened at Cas’ words, “I, um, I’m glad I’m not a burden you feel you have to entertain.”

Dean stopped behind the couch, his hand resting on Cas’ shoulder.

“You’re not a burden, man. I like having you around.”

Cas briefly covered his hand with his own, grateful for the words and genuine honesty that shone in the other man’s eyes. Dean swallowed quickly, straightening himself and removing his hand before walking to a bookcase and grabbing a tattered looking volume.

“I know you’re teaching Classical Mythology, there’s not too much in here about that.” Dean resumed his seat on the couch, though Cas noticed he seemed further away, “My dad was more into monster lore, demons, the big bads that go bump in the night, that kind of thing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much experience in that area,” Cas admitted, “but I’d like to hear about it. May I?” he gestured towards the book still tightly gripped by Dean.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Dean handed the journal over, “a crash course in the demons of John Winchester. I’m not sure how much is accurate, but I checked what I could and fact checked what was available. I work on it when I have the time, or when I run across something to add.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas had a feeling this was something that was not usually offered up, and drove down his curiosity at both Dean’s reverence and Sam’s disdain. The book was heavy in his hands, its bindings strained against the added pages and there was a scrapbook type quality with clippings and various objects attached to stories. A cursory glance showed two distinct penmanship’s, the oldest Winchester seemed hurried in his writings leaving his son’s additions to appear cramped, though neat and precise. Cas carefully paged through until he found one he could offer an opinion on.

“This is an interesting modernization of the Siren lore.” Cas pointed to the picture that covered most of the upper page, “I’m familiar with the stories of sailors led to their death, of course, and your additions of that particular origin are quite accurate.”

“Really?” Dean seemed pleased with the praise, “I didn’t have much to go on y’know, just what I could find in local libraries growing up.”

“Considering your lack of resources, it is rather impressive.” Cas was glad to see some of the light returning to Dean’s eyes, he hoped to fully reclaim the earlier ease and dispel whatever dark notions were crowding it out, “If you’d like, I can help you. I have quite an extensive collection, while it may not encompass your father’s interests I also have access to a large pool of information through the university.”

“You don’t have to…” Dean trailed off, but not before Cas could see a gleam of excitement at the prospect.

“It’s truly no trouble.” He assured him, “I think it’s a project I would enjoy actually. Here, this one, the Lamia? I have a few references to this in my books.”

He stood and extended his hand towards the hall in invitation.

“We could go look now if you want? There’s a few different beers in the fridge to choose from.”

Dean grinned and stood to follow.

“And you called yourself a burden.”

“Go ahead, pick one out,” Cas gestured towards the fridge, “I’ll go grab the books from my office.”

His hands slid over the spines on the shelf, looking for one in particular that had the most lore on Lamia’s. He found it quickly enough and returned to the kitchen where Dean had already poured two glasses of Irish Death.

“It just seemed right.” He chuckled.

“There is a certain symmetry to it.” Cas agreed, “I’ll stick to one, so we don’t come full circle.”

“At least I won’t have to walk you so far if that plan falls through.”

Cas’ face flushed slightly.

“My bed is also already put together, thanks to you.”

“And we’ve already established you aren’t a kicker, anymore.”

“But apparently, you are a biter.” Dean laughed at Cas’ confusion, “Though what that has to do with sleeping, I confess I’m not sure.”

“Probably better that way,” He leaned across the bar to look at the book in Cas’ hands, “so what’ve we got?” he asked, straightening and coming around to take the stool next to him.

“This has quite a few of the earlier stories of the Lamia.” Cas opened the book to show him the pages.

“Cas,” Dean half whined, “I don’t read Latin, you want the other brother for that.”

“Sam reads Latin?”

“Enough to get by, but I’m English only. I can understand some Spanish, but that’s about it.”

“This isn’t Latin, it’s actually Greek.” Cas patted the hand sitting on the bar, “I’ll translate.”

 

~.~

 

“Wait, so this Lamia was getting it on with Zeus, which pisses Hera off. So she goes and kills all her kids and turns her into a monster that devours children?”

“Or Hera stole her children and Lamia began stealing other children and devouring them, twisted with grief and envy. The monstrous acts themselves turning her into a monster. There are a few different versions of how she began.”

Dean whistled through his teeth, and closed the book.

“There are also versions that claim Hera forced her to devour her own children, and afterward she was unable to close her eyes to escape the vision of what she’d done. There is some argument over her appearance, that it was serpent like in nature due to her madness. Others say her appearance was a natural effect of being the daughter of Hecate.”

“So, really, either way, this Lamia chic never stood a chance.”

“The more you study myths and lore, the more you realize that rarely is the villain ever truly evil for evil’s sake.” Cas shrugged.

“Right. So where was Zeus in all this, looks like he left his booty call high and dry here.”

“In the version where Lamia could never close her eyes, it’s said that he gave her the ability to remove them for respite from her pain.”

“So, he sleeps with her, knowing his wife is psycho jealous. Psycho wife either takes, or devours, or forces her to devour her kids. And Zeus is what, oh sorry, here you can take out your eyes.” Dean shook his head, “Dude, that’s fucked up.”

“A fairly apt description of most myths I suppose.” Cas laughed softly.

“Am I amusing you?” Dean’s lips quirked up and there was no real anger behind the words.

“You have a very strong sense of justice.” Cas breathed in slowly when he realized just how close the two had become, Dean’s feet were currently on the rungs of Cas’ stool, Cas’ on Dean’s. They were turned towards each other, legs touching, both resting on an upturned hand, elbow on the bar and shoulders leaning, “I’ve not seen someone so concerned for the collateral damage in these stories in quite some time.”

“Someone should be,” Dean had made no move to widen the distance between them, though his glance at where they touched showed he realized as well, “all these supposed Gods and Goddesses didn’t give a damn. They went around like parent’s who didn’t want the job, playing with people like Barbie’s.”

“I can’t argue that,” Cas’ voice had softened, they both seemed to be hovering above a whisper, “for the most part they did seem to view people as playthings, and punished those who dared help them.”

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

His face tilted slightly and Cas mirrored his movements.

“What about me?”

“You got anyone that I’m keeping you from?”

“Are you asking if I have a girlfriend, Dean?” Cas mimicked Dean’s earlier amusement.

Dean’s mouth spread into a slow smile that pulled a similar one from Cas.

“I don’t want to assume anything.”

“No, there’s no girl you’re keeping me from.”

“Guy?”

“No, no boyfriend either.”

Cas wasn’t sure if he was imagining the new heaviness to the air, or the almost imperceptible movement of the man opposite him that seemed to bring them even closer.

“Good to know.”

“Dean-“ Cas didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say, but he was interrupted when the man in question suddenly straightened leaving a space that dispelled the atmosphere and cleared the fogginess from his head rather quickly.

“Hey, you guys still up?” Sam was leaning in the open doorway, his footsteps had been unheard by Cas but obviously not by Dean.

“What do you mean still up?” Dean was confused, “Did you bomb your date or something? Home pretty early.”

“What? No.” Sam smiled at the pair, “Dean, it’s after one. How many of those did you guys have?” He gestured to the glasses on the bar.

“After one?” Dean checked his watch, “Shit, it is.”

“You guys are going to destroy that iron liver of yours.” Sam laughed at Cas’ bewildered expression when he straightened his back, the stiffness clueing him in to the passage of time.

“Hey, believe it or not, that’s the first and only one we've had.” Dean explained, “Cas was helping me with the journal. We must’ve gotten caught up in it.”

“I guess.” Sam looked between the two with a curious new glint in his eyes, “Caught up in something.”

Cas was surely mistaken about the light flush that seemed to come to Dean’s face, his freckles standing out against the coloring.

“Yee-ah,” Sam started backing out of the apartment, “I’m going to head to bed then.”

“Hold it.” Dean held his hand up to stop him, and turned towards Cas, “Thanks for the help, and the beer. I’m gonna go grill chuckles over there. I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

Cas nodded, mouth still dry over the last part of the night. He watched Dean follow a protesting Sam out into the hall with a smile on his face.

“Save it Dean, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“C’mon Sammy! Details!”

Cas shook his head, getting up to close his own door. He was slightly confused over what exactly had happened, and despite Sam’s knowing look, he still wasn’t half sure if he’d imagined it.

 

~.~

 

When Cas woke up Saturday morning it was with a lingering grin from a dream he couldn’t quite catch hold of. Sunlight was streaming into the room, warm enough to chase the slight chill that was starting to threaten the early mornings, and the sheets full of body heat felt wonderful sliding against his bare skin when he stretched. In the peaceful moment he decided that he would go against his normal state of curiosity and let his confusion of the previous night go.

In his past experience, unknown was dangerous and something he did his utmost to prevent. In a stark contrast, this felt exhilarating, like he was finally starting instead of running and dodging. There was no anxious weight in the pit of his stomach, he felt strangely light and optimistic. Regardless of what was or wasn’t happening between himself and Dean, the friendship that was building between the apartments was more than he’d hoped to find anywhere else.

That feeling pushed him out of bed, whistling softly to himself as he started coffee and once again rejected messages and missed calls. He knew that at some point he would need to face at least Anna and Gabe, they’d both called twice in the past week, something that was not usual of them; but, for now, he could push it away and focus on his morning run.

What Cas truly enjoyed about running was not the ability to think, but the absence of thought. Showers were for solving life’s great mysteries, running was for studiously ignoring them. He’d been following the same path for almost a week now and required very little input on his active brain to navigate, allowing him to let go and trust in muscle memory. He’d almost completed his circuit, relishing the silence punctuated only by the sound of rushing blood and soft thump of his feet on the pavement. Pushing just enough to trigger a rush of endorphins boosted his already elevated mood and he was riding a wonderful runners high when he returned to the building.

Taking the stairs two at a time he nearly collided with Sam who watched him dodge out of the way and into his now open door with a wistful expression.

“I miss running.”

“Coffee?” he called out his question, inviting Sam inside.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam pulled up a stool and took the mug.

“School must not leave you with an abundance of time I imagine.”

“No, not really.” Sam was thoughtful, “But, seeing you this morning reminds me of why I used to make time for it.”

“You are welcome to join me sometime, Sam.” Cas pushed the creamer and sugar across the bar, “I’m normally out by five during the week.”

“I may just take you up on that.” He raised his cup in agreement, “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“To be honest, I hadn’t gotten any farther than a shower after my run.” Cas shrugged.

“What do you say we get out of the building for a while? See some of the town?”

“I think I would enjoy that. Any particular place in mind?”

“I was going to check out the farmers market, it won’t be open too much longer.”

“Will your brother be joining us?”

“Dean?” Sam laughed, “He wouldn’t be caught dead near anything ‘organic’.”

“He does seem to take a certain sense of pride in avoiding being healthy.” Cas smiled fondly.

“That may be putting it mildly,” Sam grimaced, “I swear he has to have the arteries of an old man by now.”

“He can’t be too unaware of it, he’s not so terribly out of shape.”

“Been noticing my brother’s physique have you?” Sam teased.

Cas thought of the many times in the past week he’d had the opportunity to see Dean shirtless. Given how little he’d seen of either the brothers, the number was astonishingly high.

“He’s certainly not averse to showing it, I think it’s hard to avoid seeing really.”

“This is true,” Sam laughed, standing and starting towards the hall, “I’m gonna go get dressed, leave in twenty?”

“Sounds good.” Cas agreed, rinsing out the mugs and setting them aside to dry.

Twenty minutes wasn’t enough time for the kind of shower he really preferred, but the prospect of spending time with Sam, who he believed he had quite a bit in common with but had had little time to find out, was worth it.

He showered and dressed quickly; and, after a mental promise of “later” he quieted the flashing alerts and pocketed his phone. Sam was waiting for him at the door, a smile Cas couldn’t quiet place but was fairly certain didn’t bode well for Dean, playing at his lips.

“Ready?”

“Are we walking?”

“Nah,” The smile widened, “grabbed Dean’s keys while he was in the shower.”

“I don’t suppose he told you it was fine to borrow the car then.”

“His baby? Never.”

“Won’t he jump to conclusions?”

“I’ll call him from the market. Let him know his precious hasn’t been stolen.”

“I knew absolutely nothing about this.” Cas was not above self-preservation.

“Oh, absolutely nothing.” Sam winked, opening the door to the Impala, wincing slightly at the noise in the still morning.

 

~.~

 

Fall was slowly making its claim on the world around them, but had yet to fully pull it into its grasp. The early morning chills were quickly chased away by a warmth that was still slightly muggy and the trees were more green than gold, red, and brown. Even though summer was still present Cas could tell the season was turning more to autumn’s favor with each passing day. It seemed to him as though the two were battling it out, with summer getting weaker with each round. He was impatient for the change, ready after only a week to leave the humidity behind and the trees to give up their fight, let those fall colors blanket the town.

“How angry will he be with you?” Cas stood with Sam by the car, the market was across the street and larger than Cas had anticipated.

“For the car?” Sam shrugged, locking the doors, “Not really angry, maybe annoyed. I give him a lot of crap but he knows I’d never hurt her.” He patted the roof affectionately.

“Is he very attached to it?” Cas had never felt anything other than passing appreciation for any car he’d used. Though he hadn’t owned one himself, they’d all been property of the family.

“Yeah, we both are I guess.” Sam was thoughtful, “Him definitely more than me, but, seems like it was the only thing in our lives that didn’t change. A kind of home in a way.”

“It was your father’s?” Cas broached the question carefully as they crossed the street. It seemed that Sam was more likely to speak of the past without the emotion Dean held, but he hadn’t tested that theory.

“Til Dean was old enough, then he gave it to him and took on a truck instead.” Sam laughed shortly, “Probably the nicest thing he ever did for him. So, where do you want to start?”

They’d stopped in front of the entrance, Castiel was immediately drawn to the first stand overladen with a variety of apples. He had enjoyed baking the past Sunday and felt that he wouldn’t mind repeating it again this weekend.

“Perhaps I can help mitigate his ire,” Cas gestured towards the table, “How does Dean feel about apple pie?”

“My brother loves pie in all of its many forms.” Sam smiled broadly, “If it’s in a pie shell, you really can’t go too wrong.”

Nodding, Cas began picking through to find the best ones for pie making.

“How has your week been Sam? I saw you a few times around campus but you always seemed to be rushing or buried under work.”

“Ha, yeah, they weren’t kidding about third year being insane. I mean on one hand, you’re out of the classroom more and in the hospital, but, it’s still a lot and med students get the shit jobs that nobody else wants to do.” Sam stopped to look over a table of local honeys. “It’s worth it though, in the end.”

“I truly applaud you, I don’t think I could do it myself.” Cas paid for a large jar of his own, “I loved school, but I am a lover of words and history. It’s fascinating to me.”

“I can get that. I used to think I’d be a lawyer.” Sam smiled in remembrance, “Bobby and Dean always said I could argue my way out of anything.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to help people. Being a lawyer, yeah I could help people but there were so many rules to it. But a doctor? They can actually save people.”

“That’s an admirable thought. My father wanted me to be a lawyer actually.” Cas grimaced.

“Oh yeah? I can’t really see you in a courtroom, I mean if I’d never met you and just saw you, maybe. But you don’t seem cut out for it.”

“You’re not wrong. I had no desire to practice law, but it wasn’t what you wanted with my father that counted. It was what would most benefit the family, so his designs for me were criminal defense.”

“How’d he take it when you didn’t go pre-law?”

“Oh, I did in the beginning. When I changed my focus and decided to work towards being a professor, well it wasn’t taken well.” Cas frowned at the memory of that particular fight, “I managed to shield the truth from him until I’d nearly finished my fourth year.”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” Sam whistled, moving them to a booth of homemade spices.

“My father was a very busy man, he paid attention only to performance, not minutiae. I doubt he ever looked at my course listings to be honest.”

Cas had selected a few sticks of cinnamon, he was excited for the smell of baking an apple pie to fill his apartment.

“Still, eventually it came out. I’m only glad I was able to finish out that year and graduate. Then that summer I left, and worked to complete graduate school on my own.”

“That must’ve sucked.” Sam held out a bag of nutmeg for Cas to smell, “I mean, I never had Dad’s support at all, but I’ve never been on my own either. I always had Dean.”

“It was…different.” Cas nodded at the bag, and Sam put it with their other purchases, “I admit I really didn’t have time to focus on being alone though. I went straight from my Masters into the PhD program so I could finish as quickly as possible.”

“Dean does what he can to help, but I know how high my loans are already, yours must be through the roof.”

Cas shrugged, “My father may have cut me off, but I wasn’t without resources. My grandfather left all of the grandchildren a sizeable trust. I try not to utilize it unless absolutely necessary though.”

Sam nodded, “That explains a lot actually.”

Castiel tilted his head, confused.

“You seem like someone who grew up in a well off family is all.” Sam smiled, “Nothing bad about that, but it explains the professor attitude.”

“Ah,” Cas stopped to let a small girl rush past him to the stand with homemade candies, “your brother called me a ‘stodgy professor’.”

“Did he?” Sam laughed, “I don’t know Cas, I’ve heard some talk around campus about you.”

“I’ve only been there a week, what could anyone possibly say about me yet?”

“If Jess’ friends are anything to go by, you are far from a stodgy old professor.” Sam waggled his eyebrows, “I think one of them even used the words ‘dreamy’, other descriptions aren’t quite up for polite conversation.”

Cas huffed.

“Yeah, I’d watch some of those students of yours.” Sam teased, “Don’t go letting them into your office after hours.”

Cas thought to tell him Dean had said the same, but decided some teasing of his own was in order instead.

“Who’s Jess? Is she the girl I’ve seen you around campus with?”

Sam’s face paled slightly as he realized his mistake.

“Oh, man, look don’t tell Dean okay?”

“I doubt he could do much with a name, but I’ll keep it quiet.” Cas chuckled at the obvious discomfort.

“You underestimate my brother, but thank you.”

“She’s very pretty.” Cas pushed through the crowd that was getting thicker as the morning wore on.

“She is isn’t she?” Sam’s lips twisted into a goofy grin, “She’s really smart too, and funny. She’s got a great laugh. Her nose kind of scrunches up, and it’s adorable. And I’m babbling, and I don’t even care.”

Cas laughed, “You seem to be rather taken.”

“I think I want this one to stick around Cas,” Sam was still grinning happily, “she’s amazing.”

“Tell me about her?” Cas shifted his bags. Sam seemed glad to share and share he did. The pair made their way through the rest of the market, Cas listening as Sam told him everything from their first meeting (he’d not been watching where he was going and nearly hit her with his books) to their latest date.

It was another hour before they made it out and back to the car, depositing their purchases into the trunk and settling into their seats.

“Oh, shit!” Sam was patting his pockets, “I forgot to call Dean. Shit, I can’t find my phone. Do you have yours?”

Cas nodded and pulled it out of his pocket.

“Thanks,” Sam quickly punched in a number and braced himself. A gruff voice carried over the line.

“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s me.” Cas heard the voice’s volume increase, “No, it’s fine. Calm down, your baby is perfectly safe. I was going to call, I forgot.” Cas wasn’t sure this was the best response as the voice seemed even louder, “No, yeah, I get it, I didn’t have my phone and Cas,” Cas couldn’t make out a response, “Yeah, he’s with me, this is his phone. Oh, hey, he got apples for apple pie Dean.” Sam smiled and Cas assumed this had somewhat appeased the angry man on the other side of the call, “Exactly, see, car’s fine and apple pie. All is good in the world. We’ll be back soon.”

Sam closed the phone and handed it back to Cas with a sigh of relief.

“Well, my violent death has been called off, your pie idea worked.”

 

~.~

 

When they pulled up to the building Dean was standing on the sidewalk waiting, posture stiff, arms crossed tightly against his chest and glare fixed pointedly at the driver’s side of the windshield. Sam arranged his face into a contrite expression before turning off the ignition and getting out to face his irate brother. Dean stepped off the sidewalk and extended his hand, palm up in expectation. Sam sighed and dropped the keys, motioning towards the trunk to let him know it needed opening. Dean opened his mouth and abruptly closed it as though he thought better of what he was going to say. Instead he stepped around Sam and moved to open the trunk. Cas stood beside the back of the car, not sure if he should greet the other man or not. He opted to remain quiet, but smiled warmly in his direction.

Dean seemed caught off guard and returned the smile without seeming to realize it.

“Morning Cas.” He reached in to grab bags and Cas was relieved at the change in demeanor.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas reached to take the bags being held out to him, “I apologize if you were upset.”

“That’s okay man, not your fault.” Bags retrieved, he closed the trunk and patted the car, “You didn’t know.”

Dean brushed past Sam without a word, Cas shot him a look of sympathy but he just shrugged it off, more used to dealing with a silent tantrum from his brother. He took a few of the bags of Cas’ hands and they both followed Dean upstairs to the Winchester’s apartment.

Cas set his packages down on the bar with the rest and started separating what was going back to his own kitchen, Sam sat at on one of the stools to do the same. Cas looked up as Dean came out of his bedroom pausing a few feet from Sam and turning to Cas.

“I’ve got a few errands to run, so I’ll stop by the store and grab stuff for dinner. I was thinking of maybe frying some chicken? Sound good?”

Cas nodded, “That sounds fine. I’ll start on the pie.”

“Alright then, you got dessert and I’ll sort out the rest of dinner.” He paused, considering his brother on the stool in front of him.

Sam seemed to brace himself in preparation, Cas soon saw it wasn’t misplaced as Dean pulled his arm back and punched Sam in the arm hard enough to make the man wince.

“Ow, Jesus, Dean.” Sam rubbed his upper arm and glared.

“Hey, you steal my car, you get punched.” He smiled, “Simple rule, Sammy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes and flipped his now laughing brother off.

Once Dean had left he turned his attention to Cas.

“Need any help with the pie?”

Cas gathered up his supplies and shook his head. He had baked with his Grandmother, but found sharing a kitchen difficult with others.

“No, I’m just going to get the dough ready right now. It has to chill before I can use it. You’re welcome to keep me company though. I’ve got some reading to go over.”

“Sounds good, I’ve got plenty of work to do. I’ll just grab my stuff and meet you over there?”

Cas nodded, making his way back to his own apartment. He was pulling out what he needed to get started on the dough for the crust when Sam came in with his books.

“I’m afraid I’ll probably take up the entire bar Sam, but you’re welcome to use the dining table or living room.”

Sam chose the table, spreading his books out and getting to work. After Cas finished preparing the dough and wrapping it he put it in the fridge and joined him with his own books and papers.

The pair worked in a comfortable silence, Sam occasionally asking Cas’ opinion and Cas occasionally doing the same. This was only the second time he’d had the chance to work in one of the brother’s company but Cas found it preferable to working on his own. It was surprising to him as he usually preferred the quiet that solitude granted him, the other man’s presence did not distract him as he feared. Well it did, but in a way that helped him. Left to his own devices, Cas had the habit of traveling too far in one direction and becoming so focused that he quite forgot what he’d started out to accomplish in the first place.

 “I’m not bothering you am I?”

“No, the opposite actually.” Cas answered with a smile, “I confess, it’s difficult for me sometimes to put myself in my student’s shoes. You have an insight that I do not.”

Sam nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t a disturbance, and went back to his notes. Cas set his own work aside and moved to the kitchen to start on the apples. He’d finished coring and peeling and was cleaning up the mess so he could begin cutting the slices when he heard Dean’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Music started across the hall and Cas could hear the opening and closing of cabinets.

Dean came in as Cas finished slicing and was beginning to mix the ingredients for the filling.

“Oh sweet, I didn’t miss the good part.” Dean immediately took up residence on the stool across from the mixing bowl. Sam joined him at the bar, curious.

“What’s the good part?”

“Taste testing. Best job in pie making.” He winked at his brother and turned to Cas with a pleading expression.

“Not yet.” Cas laughed, “It’s not ready for that.”

“What’s with the bourbon?” Sam pointed to the bottle and now empty shot glass next to the bowl.

“Don’t question it.” Dean poked in him the shoulder, “The man is a genius.”

Cas shrugged, “My grandmother always used bourbon instead of vanilla. It actually has a good amount of vanillin in it.” He set the mixed eggs aside in their own bowl and moved the remaining concoction to a pot on the stove, “I just need to cook these a bit, not too long.”

“Why cook them before you’re, well going to cook them?”

Dean shot Sam another look.

“Quit bothering my pie maker.”

“The apples get smaller as they cook, a little pre-cooking lessens the gap between the top crust and filling as it bakes.” Cas explained, stirring the apples that were just beginning to bubble.

“See, genius.” Dean smiled.

The apples were tender but not over cooked so Cas removed them from the stove, pouring the mixture back into the bowl to stop them cooking from any residual heat in the pot. He gave it one final stir before scooping an apple slice and some liquid onto the spoon, blowing softly to cool it down and then extending it in invitation to an eager looking Dean.

He chewed slowly, humming happily and nodding his approval.

“Beautiful.” He whined slightly when Cas put the bowl into the refrigerator, “Where are you going with that?”

“It has to cool, Dean.” Cas laughed again, “I’ll get the dough ready, and it’ll be cool enough by then.”

Dean frowned. Cas was reminded of Anna.

“What if I promise you the bowl and spoon when I’m finished with them?” He offered with a teasing smile.

Dean’s face brightened considerably.

“Yes!”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s unabashed excitement over a mostly empty bowl.

By the time Castiel had finished pressing the crust into the pan Sam had wandered back to the table and his books; but, Dean, was still sitting on his stool waiting expectantly. It had taken him close to thirty minutes to finish preparing the crust, the heat of the day warming the dough and necessitating a quick trip to the freezer in the middle. Cas admired his dedication, and smiled broadly when he realized he’d overestimated in his calculations for the filling leaving a small amount still in the bowl after the pie was filled to capacity. Dean very nearly snatched it out of his outstretched hands.

“Awesome.” He whispered before attacking the remaining apples.

Cas chuckled, putting the now finished pie into the oven and washing up the few dishes and cooking space. With everything washed and wiped down he looked up to find that Dean had since abandoned the spoon and was using his fingers to chase down any stray filling left.

“I am happy to wash that, you needn’t feel you have to clean it completely.” He teased lightly.

Dean pulled his finger out of his mouth with a wet pop that inexplicably brought a slight heat to Cas’ face. He smiled crookedly and handed the now empty bowl over the bar.

“So, we’ve got some time to kill now right? Or do you need to work more?”

“No, I’m done for today.”

“Great. Ever play Guitar Hero?”

~.~

 

Castiel had no idea what he was doing. Dean had shown him briefly how to hit the notes that appeared on the screen, but honestly, while he understood the concept easily enough (hold this color, “strum” the guitar for each point on the screen) getting his own hands to cooperate was proving difficult. Dean tried to help him, but that just got Cas more flustered and he ended up missing a string of notes. Dean had laughed it off, told him he’d get better with practice and moved off to the kitchen to separate the chicken.

Sam wandered back in sometime after pulling the pie out to cool and at first sat quietly. Cas was even more aware of someone watching and was about ready to throw the entire plastic contraption into the corner like a child throwing a fit.

“Index.” Sam said quietly.

“I’m sorry?” Cas turned confused and slightly irritated.

Sam brushed off the agitation and motioned back to the screen, “Trust me, it’ll help. Just push the finger I tell you to.”

Not entirely sure it would, but willing to try, Cas turned back to the game.

“Middle,” Sam went on, “And now, index, ring, ring.”

They continued in this manner until Castiel had a better grasp of which color indicated which finger. He’d managed to limp his way through an entire song without Sam’s help, not well by any means but at least he’d finished it, when Dean pulled the last of the pieces from the hot oil.

“Food’s on.”

“Hey, I have an idea.” Sam stopped at the counter, “How about we eat at Cas’, at a table, with real chairs.” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“That’s fine with me.” Cas set the guitar aside, “That is why I purchased it after all.”

Dean shrugged, “Doesn’t bother me none, here Sammy, you grab the chicken.”

Cas helped carry the rest over the landing and into his apartment, setting it on the table and returning to the kitchen.

“Any preferences?” He asked, gesturing to the cabinet of beer.

“Got anything cold?” Dean opened the fridge to answer his own question.

“Nothing too heavy.” Cas answered, pointing out the pale ale on the top shelf.

“Perfect,” He grabbed it out and Cas followed with glasses, “I’ve got plans that involve harder stuff for later.”

Sam groaned, “No, we are not playing a drinking game with Guitar Hero, Dean.”

“Sure we are!”

“Cas can hardly make it through a song! He’ll be puking before midnight.”

This sounded like a dreadful idea to Castiel, Sam was right, he couldn’t do it sober.

“I dunno, I think Cas can handle it.” He smiled broadly and bumped his elbow into Castiel’s, “Whaddya say? I’ll go easy on ya, for a bit.”

On the other hand, it could be fun. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been drunk with them before. Well, not so much Sam, but still.

“He looks terrified,” Sam laughed, “it’s okay Cas, you can be on my team.”

“Fine, I see how it is, gang up on me. That’s alright girls, you’re still gonna lose.”

He winked at Cas who spluttered slightly.

“What are the rules?” he asked warily.

Dean rubbed his hands together, Cas laughed despite himself, he’d never actually seen someone do that.

“See, me and Sammy, we take a tally and go note for note. Miss a note, take a shot. If we went by song, we’d never get buzzed, let alone drunk.”

Cas paled at the idea of alcohol poisoning in less than one song.

Seeing the look of fear, Dean chuckled and went on.

“Don’t worry, we won’t do that to you, tonight anyway. Nah, I’m thinking tonight, since Sammy decided to team up with you, we’ll do versus rounds. Loser drinks.”

Cas eyed Sam with worry, “How good are you Sam?”

“No worries, I guarantee I’ll at least make him drink as often as he makes me.”

“And you get to sit out every other round,” Dean spread his hands, “everybody gets buzzed, nobody goes to the hospital. Win/win.”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam smiled, “I’ve been practicing. You may want to go easy on that chicken.”

Dean paused mid bite, considering.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but, maybe we should save the pie for tomorrow.”

The brothers were smirking at each other in competition and Cas was suddenly very glad he would only be going against one of them, with the other to back him up instead.

 

~.~

 

It had started pretty much how Castiel had imagined it. He’d lost spectacularly to Dean the first three times he’d gone against him. After the fourth, and fourth shot, Dean had even seemed to take pity on him and challenged Sam to a double or nothing round after he’d lost to his younger brother. He could have been just that competitive, but the look of apology for so many shots in rapid succession he shot towards Cas said otherwise. Dean had lost that round as well, but took his two shots with a smile.

So far, Cas wasn’t doing too badly. Five shots in an hour and a half, really wasn’t terrible for him, both the brothers had gone light on them anyway. Sam and Dean seemed to have hit the point where an extra shot here or there was welcomed, so by the time they’d hit the two hour mark, all three men were pleasantly buzzed.

That’s when Cas hit his stride.

He’d played a perfect song, and had absolutely no idea how he’d done so.

Dean was standing, mouth open in surprise, while Sam was laughing and happily pouring an overlarge shot for his big brother.

He stood to take the guitar from Cas, slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations.

“Cas, man that was awesome!”

Cas reeled slightly, “Oh, I think I need to sit now.” He attempted to remove the guitar but teetered a bit in the process.

Dean quickly took his shot and unhooked the strap for him, taking the guitar and handing it over to Sam.

“You out?” His hand was on Cas’ lower back, steadying him and guiding him back to the couch.

“I think that might be best, for a bit at least. I’ll just watch you two.” Cas settled himself back into the armrest.

“Note for note?” Sam raised the bottle in question.

“Do you even have to ask?”

Cas wasn’t sure how long he sat there, comfortably drunk and entertained by the men and their competitive nature. He’d given up trying to follow the screen, the moving neck too much for his brain to take in, and had settled for watching their faces instead. He smiled widely at their laughing interactions, the brothers bore a resemblance, they did share genes after all, but if you were to see them apart with no knowledge of the other, you’d never know they were brothers. Watching them now, at ease and in their natural element, Castiel could see just how similar the two really were.

Height and other superficial differences aside, he found himself quite fond of one particular shared trait of laughing with their entire body. As much as they taunted each other, they were also clearly enjoying themselves. One’s mouth would twitch into a suppressed smile, the other noticing and lips turning up the same. It would continue this way until one lost it and the other followed suit. They both laughed fully, mouths open with no thought to expression, body shaking. And both shared that dance of body language that comes from growing up in close quarters with one another.

Castiel knew how little resemblance he bore to his siblings in looks, but he caught himself wondering if he had any of their shared traits, like the Winchesters. He tried to remember if Anna or Gabe’s eyes crinkled like his when they laughed. He tried to remember if he’d ever even seen Michael or Lucifer laugh at all. That line of thought was not worth following, not when his body was so pleasantly warm and his eyelids so heavy.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam’s voice sounded far away and he struggled to open his eyes.

“Nah, leave him be, I’ll get him later.”

Satisfied that Dean would take care of it, Cas let himself drift off.

 

~.~

 

Hands were heavy on either shoulder and a face leered above him. He felt the hands slide inward and took advantage of the open space before it closed by bringing his own arms up quickly and firmly. Hold over him broken, he moved in close against the other man. One hand securing a shoulder in front of him while the other arm bent against the man’s neck, pinning him against the wall behind them. The man gasped his name and Castiel felt like he should be remembering something. Something important.

“Cas.”

An open hand tried in vain to push him off. There was something he was forgetting.

“Cas…please.” Something flashed in the man’s face, his eyes were wrong. Green instead of brown. A face that was not correct flickered in and Cas remembered. This man was dead, he could no longer gasp his name or struggle against him. This was a dream.

Realization brought truth rushing into his vision and he wished it hadn’t. He scrambled back and onto his feet rubbing the arm that had just been pushed violently against Dean’s neck. Dean, who was still on the couch, a look of shock slowly being replaced by fear. Genuine fear that made bile rise in Castiel’s throat.

“Dean.” His whispered plea for something he wasn’t even sure he could explain snapped the man out of his own internal nightmare. He looked up at Castiel now with worry. They stayed like that for a few beats, neither sure how to proceed. Then something shifted in Dean’s expression, a resolution seemed to have been reached.

“Lesson learned,” Dean joked weakly, rubbing his throat and standing up, “from now on I’ll leave you alone, shake your foot, something. No more shoulders.”

“Dean, I’m.” Cas wrung his hands, pulling them into his chest, “I am so sorry. I-“

“Hey,” Dean lifted his hand but let it drop when Cas flinched, “really, I’ll be okay. Cas, are you okay?”

“Ye-yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He stepped back, needing to flee and feeling trapped, “I, just. Just a bad dream. I should go.”

Dean reluctantly stepped to the side, opening the most direct path to the front door. Cas quickly took advantage but Dean’s voice stopped him as he went to open his door.

“Cas.”

He jerked his head to acknowledge he’d heard.

“I’ll see you later today alright?”

Cas gave another shaky nod before he was home free and could close the door and shut out the world.

A quiet buzzing from the counter distracted him and allowed him to push the chain of events from his mind. His phone buzzed twice more before his brain engaged again and he picked it up, curious.

Since when did Anna text him?

_As you don’t answer calls, this seemed to be the only way to make sure my words were heard and not just deleted._

_Michael continues to rail against your disobedience and neglecting of duties._

_Father insists you will tire of this and return home._

Cas’ fingers moved against the screen before he realized he’d given them leave to do so.

_And what of you, dear sister, what are your words._

He stood tense, waiting for her reply and dreading it all the same.

_Come home brother, I miss you._

Castiel sighed heavily, silenced the phone, and dropped it back onto the counter. There was no room left in his mind at the moment, no desire to pick apart or over think. Instead, he fell into his bed fully clothed and gave into his exhaustion. Fleeting images of his family and a terrified Dean pinned beneath him haunted his sleep.

 

~.~

 

Waking the next morning was nothing like the previous days had been. It was so far removed it seemed as though yesterday couldn’t possibly have been yesterday; and instead weeks must have passed between collapsing into his bed and the fitful sleep that had occurred. The warmth that had been a pleasant chaser to the morning chill just hours before was now oppressive and heavy. A sure sign he had slept far past his normal time. The sheets held too much body heat and were twisted around his legs, the entire bed showed the signs of nightmares he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, remember.

His clothes felt heavy and rank with sweat, he would need to strip the bed to rid himself of the smell. A part of him debated the merit of merely not leaving the bed in the first place. After all, he had nowhere to be. He could, in fact, stay in bed and ignore the outside world until tomorrow morning. Dean had made a comment about seeing him today, but Cas took that for what it was, a nicety that he was sure neither would be up for seeing through.

He groaned when he thought of what had happened. It hadn’t been so long since he’d had bad dreams, but it had been a long time since he’d needed to worry about someone else experiencing them with him. He should never have let himself fall asleep. He should have excused himself as soon as the drowsiness started; but, he’d enjoyed the night so much and watching the brothers had been so relaxing. In his attempt to keep the night from ending, he feared he’d effectively brought the entire friendship to an end instead.

How exactly do you continue after assaulting someone in your sleep? Castiel wasn’t sure of the etiquette involved in a situation like this. There was the idea of baking, both cathartic and apparently a weakness held by the elder Winchester. What dessert properly conveyed an apology for attempting to kill someone?

Cas laughed darkly in spite of himself. This was ridiculous, and pathetic. Sighing in disgust he finally disentangled himself from the sheets. He stripped the bed with a little more violence than strictly necessary, but restrained himself from heaving the mess across the room and instead dropped the pile by the bedroom door. He stopped to bring his breathing under control, his rapidly swirling emotions threatening. This could be handled, he would shower, shave, make coffee, and work on his research.

Calm, precise, methodical.

This was the secret to maintaining this life he was attempting to build now. Castiel had always been precise and methodical, even as a young child, but there were times that was more calculating than comforting and calm was something that he had worked to attain. Emotions were slippery things that could easily spiral and storm beneath the surface.

He showered quickly, not allowing himself room to rebel and get lost in his own head. Standing in front of the mirror he took in his appearance. Lack of good sleep could be seen easily in his eyes, even clean, he appeared ragged.

“Oh my precious sister,” He smiled snidely to himself, “If you could see your beloved brother now.”

With each stroke of the razor against his skin he rebuilt his wall, the past would remain where it belonged. Behind him.

He’d done well so far on his resolve, he’d make coffee and work on his research. His door would stay closed and his phone silent. He pulled the carafe out and noticed the still untouched pie on the counter. Cas wondered if that would be enough to pull Dean to his door. Would the unfulfilled expectation of apple pie trump being victim to an attack in his own living room? Also, he hadn’t realized it the night before but the dining room table and counters had been cleared. Sam and Dean must have pulled that off while he was asleep on the couch.

He heard the door across the hall open and froze.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered shaking himself, “am I really going to hide in my apartment all day?”

What was the actual worst that could happen? Dean could warn Sam off and they’d keep a safe distance. In the grand scheme of things, that was nothing that he couldn’t deal with. He’d finished filling the carafe when he heard a knock on his door, followed by the creak of it opening to let Sam inside.

Apparently they were past the, should I just open my neighbors door phase. Or alternately, Sam could be coming to return the favor paid to his older brother. Castiel studied his face warily, that didn’t seem the case. If anything, the other man seemed amused.

“I thought Dean looked bad,” He laughed, “I mean, you’ve obviously showered, so you’re ahead of him on that, but you still look wrecked.”

“I don’t feel terribly much better than that I’m afraid.” Cas tried to place Sam during the incident. He didn’t remember seeing him in the room and he was fairly certain that Sam wouldn’t have stood by while he pinned Dean by the throat.

“I think we broke my brother,” Sam smiled gleefully, “He’s drinking tea. Like hot tea, and no whiskey either. Says his throats sore, but whatever, I think he’s more hung-over than he wants to admit.”

So, Dean hadn’t told Sam what had happened. Maybe he wasn’t closed off from the older Winchester after all, Cas wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad thing really. He decided to push his luck, see for himself exactly where he stood now.

“Maybe this will help,” he put the carafe back and scooped up the pie instead, “a peace offering for what must be a terrible headache.”

He paused in the doorway, unsure that he should really push, but the apartment across from his was open and he could see Dean at the bar. He’d obviously known where Sam was going and hadn’t stopped him. Maybe he was letting Cas come to him? With that thought, he forced himself across the hall and through the open door.

“I bring pie,” He offered softly at Dean, “In apology.”

Dean’s gaze was heavy, he seemed to be reevaluating him. Not that Castiel blamed him exactly, he’d been shown a side of him that Dean hadn’t expected to see. One that Castiel tried, and usually managed, to keep well hidden. He settled on something before giving up a smile that, while not forced, did not exactly meet his eyes.

“My savior.” His voice was raspy and Cas felt terrible.

“Are you okay?” His own voice was just above a whisper, “I am so-“

Dean cut him off with his hand and a minute shake of his head, eyes finding Sam who was making coffee and studiously ignoring the two of them.

“Relax,” Dean waved him off gruffly, “I’ve had worse, believe me, survived that, and I’ll survive this.”

Cas dropped his eyes and made to grab a knife to cut and serve but Dean covered his hand with his own, bringing his gaze back to the man nursing his tea on the other side of the bar.

“Are you okay?” His eyes were worried now, and Cas felt ashamed that it was worry for him and not of him, “You took off, and we didn’t really get to talk.”

He nodded, “I’ve had worse as well, and I’ll be fine.” Cas tried to pull his hand away, but Dean tightened his hold.

“Hey, look, what happened?” Dean was struggling, though for his throat or to find words Cas couldn’t be sure, “It’s not the first time, I mean, I’ve seen it before, okay. I didn’t know, so I-well I know now, and it’s, I’m not mad. We’re fine. Alright?”

Castiel nodded, shocked and mute. The situation now resolved, Dean smiled and this time it was genuine.

“Now, you said something about pie?”


End file.
